Dessert to Die For
by chill13
Summary: A pie, a typhoon and a tragic accident threaten to reduce seven to six.
1. Delicacy of the Gods

**1. Delicacy of the Gods**

It was a warm peaceful day on a small island in the south pacific. Birds sang in the softly rustling palm trees as a thin young man in a bright red shirt meandered through the jungle below. His light blue eyes scanned the forest around him intently, searching. For what he wasn't exactly sure, but whatever it was it had to be special. After all it was for a special person and today was a special day.

As he turned a corner in the trail something unusual caught his eye. He quickly ran over and plucked the long blue object out of the sand. A smile spread across his face as he held the feather up to the light. With every turn the color seemed to change, from dark blue to green to turquoise. "Wow." He said to himself. "This would make a great present!" But after only about a second thinking about it his smile faded and he sighed. "But not for the Skipper." It was too cool a trinket to just leave so he stuffed the feather in his pocket and continued his search.

- - - - - -

The moviestar studied the bush before her carefully. The berries on it were the strangest things she'd ever seen. She plucked one and held it up. It was dark purple, about the size of a grape, football shaped and covered with tiny pink speckles.

"Don't eat that. It's poisonous."

She jumped slightly at the order from behind her. "I wasn't going to eat it Professor." She smiled as the sandy-haired man approached. "They just look like they'd make great earrings. What do you think?" She picked another one and held them up to her ears.

He smiled and shook his head. "They look nice but fruit is hardly an appropriate material for making jewelry."

"You just don't have a good imagination."

"These berries do have a very interesting history, though." He ignored her comment and held one up.

The redhead rolled her green eyes. _Oh, boy. Here comes another scientific lecture._

"Certain native tribes use these to choose their next chief if the previous one died without an heir. They assembled all the men who wished to be the next chief and each would have to eat a bowl of these.

"Even though they're poisonous?"

"Well, they're not usually deadly unless taken in large quantities. The most common symptoms are vomiting dizziness and fatigue along with horrific nightmares."

"How did they decide?"

"They would hold an Olympics of sorts; Simple tasks for a normal person but extremely difficult under the influence of the berries. Whoever scored the highest was chosen as chief."

She opened her mouth with a question but he interrupted with the answer.

"I know it's a flawed system but they were happy with it."

"That's some crazy election."

"Yes, these berries are known to the natives as the 'delicacy of the gods'. They are very important to their culture and are rumored to be quite delicious."

"Oh, that reminds me. I'm supposed to be out here looking for spices for dinner tonight."

"I know a place down by the lagoon where there's a wide assortment to choose from. Let me show you."

- - - - - -

Gilligan had been searching the island for hours and had found a lot of neat stuff; like a shiny rock, the biggest conch shell ever and a deformed coconut, but nothing that seemed right to give the Skipper. He was about to start for the other side of the island when he heard the Professor's voice.

"…Yes, these berries are known to the natives as the 'delicacy of the gods'. They are very important to their culture and are rumored to be quite delicious."

Ginger's voice spoke up. "Oh, that reminds me. I'm supposed to be out here looking for spices for dinner tonight."

Gilligan parted the leaves and watched the Professor lead the moviestar through the lush jungle toward the lagoon. "Hmm. 'Delicacy of the gods'." The first mate mumbled to himself. "If the natives like them so much I'll bet the Skipper will love 'em." He took off his hat and filled it to the brim with the exotic berries.


	2. A Favor

**2. A Favor**

"Hey, Mary Ann!"

The young farm girl screamed and jumped at the urgent whisper and sensation of hot breath on her ear. She whirled around to see Gilligan sitting on the ground in the midst of scattered purple berries.

"Don't ever sneak up on me like that." She scolded, hands on her hips. "You scared me to death!"

"Sorry."

She frowned as he got to his knees and began picking the berries off the ground and returning them to his hat. She kneeled down and began to help. "How did you get from whispering in my ear to the ground so fast?"

"You screamed and scared me."

"Oh," She tried not to giggle. "What did you want, anyway?"

He glanced around quickly to make sure no one was listening. "Can you help me make these into a pie?"

She looked closely at one of the berries. "Why? And what's the big secret?"

"Six years ago today the Skipper and me met for the first time. We were in the Navy, y'know. And I wanted to do something nice for him. So I thought I'd make him a pie. He likes pies."

"Oh, kind of like an anniversary present."

"Don't be gross, Mary Ann! We're not _married_."

She just smiled and rolled her beautiful brown eyes. "Sure I'll help you."

"Thanks. But don't tell anybody, huh? I want it to be a surprise."

She locked her mouth with an invisible key and tossed it away. "My lips are sealed."

"If your lips are sealed how are you going to tell me how to make a pie?" He grinned, immensely proud of his little joke.

For Gilligan this pie-making thing was quite an ordeal. The measuring, the mixing, the spilling, it was all very confusing. But Mary Ann was patient and before long they had a rather dilapidated looking berry pie ready to be baked. They were both sticky with coconut milk and had berry juice and flour all over them. They laughed at how silly they both looked as Mary Ann put the pie in the brick oven.

"Thanks a lot for helping me." Gilligan said.

"Oh, it was no trouble."

"Uh, Mary Ann…"

"Yes?"

"Here." He pulled the feather out of his pocket and handed it to her.

"It's beautiful." She held it up to the light, watching it change color.

"I thought it might look nice in your hair." He shrugged, almost expecting her to say something like 'yeah right' and hand it back.

Instead she smiled and stuffed the end into one of her hairbands so the feather mingled with the curls of her ponytail. "Well, how does it look?" She asked, turning so he could see.

"Yeah." He blushed, beginning to get embarrassed about the whole thing.


	3. The Pie

**3. The Pie**

It was about 8:00 and the Skipper was already in bed. He'd worked especially hard that day and was enjoying the night sounds as he swung gently in his hammock.

A growling suddenly broke his reverie. It was his stomach. He pushed up his hat as he grunted his displeasure. He'd eaten dinner only about an hour ago, yet he was hungry again.

"Skipper!" Along with his Little Buddy's voice came the most delectably sweet aroma his olfactory senses ever had the pleasure to experience. He sat up on the edge of his hammock, awaiting the arrival of whatever smelled so good.

"Hi, Skipper." Gilligan poked his head in the door, purposefully keeping the rest of himself out of view. "Got somethi'n for you."

"You have?" The captain's mouth was beginning to water as the smell filled the whole hut.

"Uh, huh. But you got to sit at the table and close your eyes first."

He grunted a small protest but did as his friend asked. With his eyes closed the fragrance was overpowering. He could hear Gilligan sitting down in the chair across from him and setting something on the table.

"Okay, now open your mouth."

"This better not be some kind of joke. Because if it is—" A fork was abruptly shoved in his mouth before he could finish. The flavor that hit his palate was unlike anything he'd ever encountered. It was an explosion of sweetness that sent sparks to his brain. His eyes popped open to see Gilligan's grinning face.

"You like it, huh?"

"It's wonderful! What is it?"

"Mary Ann helped me make it." He motioned to the pie he had placed in front of the Skipper. "I call it: 'Delicacy of the Gods'. Here, dig in." He handed him the fork.

"Thanks!" With that he began to unceremoniously stuff his face. After a moment he stopped and looked up. "Aren't you going to have some?"

"'Nope." Gilligan shook his head, smiling. "I made it just for you."

"Wow! Thanks Little Buddy." He stuffed another bite in his mouth. "What's the occasion?"

"You don't know?" Gilligan sounded slightly hurt.

The Skipper paused for a moment, chewing thoughtfully then shook his head.

The first mate sighed, saddened that his best friend didn't remember such a special date. "We met today. Remember?"

The Skipper frowned in confusion at the wording, then his eyes lit up. "We met _tod…_Oh. Of course! I'm sorry Little Buddy. I don't know how I could forget." He gave Gilligan a brisk pat on the back and his smile returned. The Captain stopped chewing for a moment and looked a little sheepish. "I…I didn't get you anything, Gilligan."

"Oh, that's okay." He gave the captain an assuring grin. "I understand. At your age I'm surprised your memory is as…"

He was halted by a stern glare that clearly said 'don't go there'.

"Anyway, you don't have to give me anything. I'm just glad you like the pie."

"I _love _it."

"Wow. Really?" Gilligan was surprised at himself. He had finally done something right for a change. This could be his calling. "Maybe after we're rescued I could be a cook for the Navy."

"Uh, I wouldn't go that far, Little Buddy."

"I can see it now…" His eyes glazed with a kind of far off look. " 'Gilligan, Master Chef'! I'll be an expert with spices. I'll cook with cinnamon and garlic and cloves and ginger…" His face flushed and the Skipper laughed. "Well, maybe not Ginger."

"I can see why," The Skipper had finished the pie and headed over to his hammock. "anything you put her in would be too hot!" He laughed heartily at his own joke, which just made Gilligan blush more. Ginger scared the first mate in more ways than one. "Come on 'Master Chef', let's hit the sack."


	4. The Nightmare

**4. The Nightmare**

The Skipper stood on the violently rocking deck of the Minnow. So fierce was the fury of the relentless wind that the impact of every goliath raindrop felt like a bullet against his face. It took every ounce of his strength to hold the wheel steady as the tiny ship was tossed by the gigantic waves. Lightning sliced blindingly across the sinister sky creating a constant roar of thunder. That mingled with the pelting rain, the howling wind, and the raging sea created a terrifying symphony.

Had the circumstances been different he may have reveled in this challenge to test his sailing skills against such a powerful opponent. But as it was he cursed the stormy seas for threatening the innocent lives that were depending on his seamanship for their continued existence.

The flash of another lightning bolt made him aware of another threat. Large, dark, triangular shapes were slicing through the waters around the boat. It wasn't the gray fins that made his heart turn cold. It was what he knew lurked beneath; Endless rows of deadly teeth ready to dismember any helpless victim within their merciless grasp.

"Skipper!" Came a barely audible shout from behind.

"Gilligan!" He turned to see his first mate struggling to climb the steps. As the ship bucked violently he slipped several times on the drenched stairs. The Skipper regretted he couldn't give his Little Buddy a hand but dared not take either of them off the wheel. Only by hauling himself up on the handrail did Gilligan finally ascend the stairs and make it to his captain's side. "I told you to stay below!"

"I know, Sir." Gilligan's eyes squinted against the pelting rain as he shouted at the top of his lungs to be heard. "But the Howell's are coming up to tell you they want their money back."

As if on cue Mr. and Mrs. Howell appeared on the deck below. "I say, Captain!" He shouted up at the Skipper, fighting to keep his balance. "This is the most dreadful three hour tour I've ever had the misfortune to experience. You're the worst sea captain I've come across. I want a refund!"

"After all," His wife added. "We didn't pay for a storm."

"Get below deck!" The Skipper shouted, ignoring their demand. "That's an ORDER!"

"How dare you!" Said Mr. Howell in defiance just as a giant wave crashed over the deck. The Skipper and Gilligan watched in horror as the two millionaires were swept into the stormy sea.

"Oh, Skipper!" Was Gilligan's inaudible exclamation. Then he turned suddenly to his captain. "We've got to help!" He shouted, as if he was about to dive overboard after them.

"There's nothing we can do, Little Buddy." As he watched his friend's eyes tear with realization he longed to put a comforting hand on his shoulder to relieve some of both their pain.

But before either of them could really react to their grief they heard another voice from the deck below. "This is the most fantastic typhoon I have ever come across!"

They looked down to see Professor Hinkly standing where the Howells had been only seconds earlier. He was obviously awed into insanity by the power he was beholding.

"Professor!" The Skipper shouted. "I thought you were the smart one! Get below deck!"

"Please!!" Gilligan pleaded.

"Look!" The Professor pointed to the sky, disregarding the dire warning. "Look at the sheet lightning. It's marvelous! I wish I had my meteorological instruments." As he was still speaking another giant wave thundered over the deck. When it had receded the Professor was gone.

"Professor! Oh, Skipper, do something. Do something!" Gilligan pleaded, shaking his arm. But there was nothing he could do. Nothing but fight the wheel, trying to keep the whole ship from capsizing and dumping them all into the violent ocean.

Soon another figure appeared on deck. Her fiery red hair blowing in the wind Ginger somehow made it to the bow of the boat.

Both the Skipper and Gilligan were shouting at her to return to the safety of the hold. But either she couldn't hear their warnings or was ignoring them all together.

"I was in a movie once were there was a violent typhoon at sea." She said as she struck a pose, leaning against the rail. "I had been kidnapped by pirates and…" The boat bucked suddenly and violently, throwing the actress into the turbulent waves.

"Oh, that poor girl!" The Skipper said shaking his head, devastated. Gilligan just stared, open mouthed. He was now shaking all over. The captain couldn't tell if it was from the cold, fear or despair.

The Skipper opened his mouth to say something but Gilligan interrupted. "Oh, no. Not Mary Ann. Mary Ann, go back! Go back!"

The young farm girl looked up at them. She shivered as she clung to the railing with everything she was worth. "I'm scared. I don't want to be down there by myself."

"Don't be scared Mary Ann." Gilligan shouted. "I'll come down and get you."

"Be careful, Gilligan." The Skipper ordered.

"I will." He said, right before he slipped and tumbled down the stairs. After a moment of flailing he finally gained his footing and held onto the handrail for balance. Slowly he guided himself along. The Skipper watched his Little Buddy intently, willing him safely forward. He couldn't help but cheer as Gilligan finally reached Mary Ann.

"Are you okay?" Gilligan asked. The Skipper didn't know how he could possibly hear the conversation on the deck below over the storm, but somehow he did.

Mary Ann nodded. "I'm scared!"

The two just stood there and stared at each other for a moment. They were both gripping the banister for dear life and were terrified to let go.

Gilligan was the first to make a move. Cautiously he released his hold and stretched one hand toward Mary Ann, while still keeping a firm grip with the other. "Take my hand! I won't let go, I promise!"

At first she just stared hesitantly at his hand. But after a moment she built up the courage to release her hold. Just as she let go of the banister and reached for Gilligan's hand there was a loud crash and the vessel lurch violently beneath them as it slammed into some underwater obstacle. Mary Ann screamed as she slipped off the deck and fell toward the churning waves. Gilligan made a wild grab and caught her wrist, suspending her just above the angry waters.

"Don't let go! Oh, Gilligan, don't let go!"

"I won't." He looked down at her. His face strained as he tried to keep his grip on her and the handrail, the only thing that kept them both from plunging into the watery abyss.

"Hold on Little Buddy!" The Skipper shouted down at them. "Hold on!"

"I'm slipping!" Gilligan shouted franticly. "Skipper, help!

He wanted more than anything to release the wheel and assist his friends. But he was frozen in place. His feet seemed to be glued to the deck and his hands to the wheel.

There was another crash and the ship jerked fiercely. The Skipper watched helplessly as Gilligan's fingers slipped from the rail and sent the first mate and the sweet, young farm girl plunging into the stormy sea.

"Gilligaaaaaaan! Noo! No, no, no! Oh, Gilligan." He cried, his devastated voice rising above the raging storm.

Another great wave dashed the vessel once again against the submerged rocks. The sideboards groaned in protest against the destructive force. The stress was just too much for the little boat. Being repeatedly slammed against the hard stone it began to fall apart. The Skipper stood helpless at the wheel as the floor boards beneath his feet parted from one another as if the nails holding them together had simply vanished and they were now free to go their separate ways. The lumber crumpled out from under him and the Skipper was suddenly engulfed the freezing blackness of the sea.

And from that darkness came something even darker, more sinister. He tried franticly to escape the approaching shadow. But no matter how hard he swam the dark form still drew slowly nearer. It was as if it knew he could not escape and would vanquish him at its leisure.

His arms and legs pumped continually, desperately, propelling him all to slowly through the thick, murky blackness. His lungs felt like they would explode and he had to fight the overwhelming urge to take a breath. At that point he realized he could not distinguish which way was up. He was not sure if he was swimming toward the surface or the ocean floor.

Then the creature was upon him. There was a flash of white teeth as the deadly jaws latched onto his arm. It shook him violently, turning the sea red. But somehow there was no pain. He tried to fight, to pull away, but the grip was like a vice.

"Skipper." Somehow a voice reached his ears through that thick inky gloom. It was Gilligan's voice and it seemed to be coming from the shark! _My poor Little Buddy!_ He thought as realization dawned on him. _That shark ate him whole and he's still alive in there!_

"Skipper. Skipper, wake up. Skipper!" The shaking continued as the dark sea around him dissolved and Gilligan's concerned face faded into view.

"Wha?" Had his Little Buddy somehow escaped the sharks and drug him to land?

"Are you awake?" Gilligan stopped shaking him and released his arm.

"Awake?" The Skipper shook his head, trying to clear it. He was drenched from head to toe. It took a moment to realize it was only his own sweat and not from the savage waters of the ocean. He glanced around, his chest still heaving. He was safe in his hammock, the moon shone brightly through the window, unhindered by clouds. It illuminated the inside of the hut enough that he could tell that everything was in its place. Relief swept over him like the cool night breeze. _It was all a dream!_

"Are you alright?" Gilligan asked. "You were dreamin' and boy you were sure yelli'n at me."

"I was?" The Skipper wasn't really listening. All of a sudden his stomach felt queasy and the room seemed to be spinning.

"Yeah, you were. You were yelling 'Gilligan, no! No! No!' Boy, I must'a done something really dumb for you to yell at me like that."

"I gotta…I think I should…I need some fresh air."

He pushed himself to his feet and the room began to spin sickeningly. He tried to take a step for the door and nearly lost his balance. He steadied himself for a moment on the pole that held their hammocks. He was panting heavily and could barely see straight.

"Are you alright, Skipper? You don't look so good." A look of concern crossed Gilligan's boyish face.

"I'm fine!" He said, a bit louder then he had intended. "I'm sorry Little Buddy. I didn't mean to yell at you. I am a little dizzy. But I just stood up to fast, that's all. I'm going to go for a little walk. I'll be fine. You just go back to bed." He was trying to convince himself as well as Gilligan that it was nothing. But he knew better. He didn't think he had ever felt so awful in his whole life. His head was spinning, his vision was blurry, his stomach was churning and he was aching all over.

"Well, if you're sure you're alright." Gilligan sounded doubtful.

"I'm sure." And with that he staggered drunkenly from the hut and into the jungle. As soon as he was past the first line of brush and out of view of the huts he fell to his knees and threw up.


	5. Diagnosis

**5. Diagnosis**

Mr. Howell marched angrily out of his hut his wife trailing close behind. They had been awakened by the commotion coming from the other hut and were headed over to give Gilligan and the Skipper a piece of their mind.

"Such a ruckus at this time of night. I mean really!" He mumbled to himself as he neared the captain and crew's abode. He was about to barge in and begin a loud and long-winded speech about the loud and inappropriate behavior of the two sailors when his wife put a hand on his shoulder.

"What?!"

"Thurston, listen."

A low pained groan came from the bushes behind them.

"What was that?"

"I'm not quite sure, Lovey, but it sounds rather like me when my stock goes down. Let's investigate, shall we?"

They crept across the clearing and slowly parted the bushes.

"Captain!" He was kneeling in the sand leaning heavily against a palm tree. At the sound of the millionaire's voice he looked up weakly.

"What are you too doing up so late." The Skipper tried to sound casual through labored breaths.

"That's what I was going to ask you." The rich man crouched down next to the sailor, careful not to get his cashmere jammies in the sand. "Are you alright? You don't look so good."

"You look absolutely dreadful!" Mrs. Howell said. "Your as pale as my mother of pearl necklace."

"You should go see the Professor." Mr. Howell helped the captain to his feet.

He started to protest (after all, a captain was supposed to be strong and robust, giving confidence to his passengers and crew) But it was just too much effort. "Maybe you're right." He leaned slightly on the millionaire's shoulder.

"I'm always right." He said, struggling under the larger man's weight. "There was one time when I thought I was wrong, but of course I was mistaken." He laughed heartily at his own joke. "That was a good one, wasn't it Lovey?"

"Yes dear."

As they neared the Professor's hut Mr. Howell leaned close to the Skipper's ear. "The Professor's a very smart man. However, if that egghead can't help you…" He glanced over his shoulder to assure himself they were not being spied upon. He slipped something in the Skipper's hand and whispered: "…here. Teddy will make you feel better."

Later…

"Have you eaten anything unusual lately?"

The Skipper shook his head, trying to clear it. He was having a hard time concentrating. "No, I don't think so." He paused for a moment to wipe the beads of perspiration off his forehead.

"Are you sure? Think hard. This is important, Skipper. I can't help you if I don't know what is causing these symptoms."

"Well, uh, Gilligan baked me a pie."

The Professor's eyebrows shot up. "_Gilligan_ baked you a pie?" He almost said, 'well no wonder you're sick'.

He smiled a little at the Professor's reaction. "Don't worry; Mary Ann helped him. I wouldn't have ate it if he'd made it himself. I'm not _that_ crazy."

"I'm glad."

"You know what a sentimental little guy he is. Well, six years ago today we met and he wanted to do something nice for me. You'd be surprised, it really was a great pie. Best pie I've ever tasted. I ate the whole thing." The Skipper paused for a moment in thought. "He called this really funny name. Now what was it…? Oh yeah, 'Delicacy of the Gods'."

The Professors eyebrows raised almost to his hairline. "He called it _what_?!"

The captain frowned. " 'Delicacy of the Gods'. What's the matter Professor? Is that important?"

"It certainly is!" Said the Professor as he stomped out of the hut looking both perplexed and angry.

"What's wrong with him, Professor?"

"Is he alright?"

"Can we help?"

"Is it serious?"

He ignored everyone's questions as he stormed by them, into the hut and up to Gilligan's hammock and shook him roughly. "Gilligan, wake up! Get up."

Startled awake he flipped out of his hammock and onto the floor. "Help! Help! Run for your lives!" He leapt to his feet ready to flee out the door, but the Professor grabbed him firmly by the shoulders and held him in place.

"What was in the Skipper's pie?"

Gilligan relaxed a bit. "Is that all? Boy, you had me scared there for a minute Professor. I thought a giant monster was attacking the island or something. Like in Godzilla. I saw this one where there was a three headed monster and he…"

"The pie, Gilligan. The pie." He shook him a bit to get him back on subject. "Why did you call it 'Delicacy of the gods'?"

"Oh, that. I was out in the jungle look'n for something to give the Skipper because…"

"I know, I know. You met six years ago."

Gilligan smiled. "Yeah. How'd you know?"

"Never mind."

"Well anyway I was look'n for something to give the Skipper when I heard you and Ginger talking about those berries."

"If you heard us talking than why did you use them in the pie?!" The Professor just couldn't believe what he seemed to be hearing, nor could the rest of the castaways who were listening just outside.

"You said they were important to the natives culture and were delicious." Gilligan was getting confused. He couldn't understand why the Professor was so interested in his cooking.

"That's all you heard?"

"Yeah. Why, what's wrong?"

The Professor relaxed his grip as he realized it was a misunderstanding and Gilligan had only heard the last part of the conversation. "Those berries have some detrimentally toxic properties." Before Gilligan had a chance to ask what that meant he explained. "I'm afraid they've made the Skipper sick."

Gilligan took a step back, stunned. "Is…is he alright?"

"I'll have to run some more tests. But I don't believe it's serious. He'll be uncomfortably ill for awhile but he'll get over it."

"Are you sure? I didn't know. I really didn't. I wouldn't ever try to hurt the Skipper. He's my best friend."

"Calm down, Gilligan. Calm down." He put a comforting hand on the first mate's shoulder. "He'll be alright. You didn't know."

Gilligan's whole body sagged and he sighed deeply. "I just wanted to make the Skipper happy. But I just made him sick."

"Why don't you go get him a glass of water. That's what he needs right now."

Gilligan nodded sullenly, grabbed a tall bamboo glass and headed for the water barrel, trying to ignore the disapproving stares of his fellow castaways. As he rounded the Professor's hut and neared the barrel his foot caught on an exposed root. He fell forward, smashing into the container. He made a wild grab for it to prevent it from tipping over but his momentum just pulled it down with him. The next moment he was laying flat on the ground next to the overturned barrel watching the water seep into the sand. He sighed deeply. _I can't even get a glass of water without messing something up._ He thought as he plodded through the moonlit jungle toward the spring.

As the Professor exited the hut he was once again bombarded with questions. He raised his hands for silence. "One at a time."

"Will he be alright." Ginger asked.

"Like I told Gilligan, which I'm sure all of you heard, I have to run a few tests but I believe he will be alright."

"Was it really the pie that made him sick?" Tears rimmed Mary Ann's eyes. "I helped make it."

"It wasn't your fault." The Professor gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. "Nobody told you those berries were poisonous."

"There's no reason for you to feel bad Mary Ann." Ginger agreed. "After all it was Gilligan's idea, not yours."

She nodded slightly at the reassurance. They were right, it wasn't her fault. But she still felt bad about it.

"Can we be of any assistance?" Mr. Howell asked.

"Yeah." Ginger said enthusiastically. "I could be his nurse. I played Ben Casey's nurse in a movie once."

"That won't be necessary. What he needs right now is water and rest. As soon as I'm through with those tests I'm going to give him something to drink and send him to bed. Now I suggest the rest of you get some sleep too. I'll call you if I need you."

-

"Well," said the Professor, putting away his stethoscope and several other hand made medical tools. "I'm all finished testing."

"How serious is it?" The Skipper asked, fearing the worst. What would everyone do without him?

"You're not going to die; if that's what you mean. But let's just say it's a good thing Gilligan didn't bake you two pies."

"You can say that again. So what's the damage?"

"Well, you'll have to stay in bed for awhile since these symptoms will persist until the poison is purged from your body."

Gilligan was returning from the spring with the Skipper's water. He was about to knock when he heard the Skipper say:

"How much longer do I have Professor?"

"Oh, it'll probably all be over by tomorrow night. Maybe not even that."

"No." Gilligan whispered to himself. It felt like his heart had jumped into his throat and was trying to strangle him.

"Tomorrow night?" The Skipper went into a brief coughing fit then grunted in frustration. "This is all Gilligan's fault! Gilligan and his pie. I don't know how anyone could be that stupid."

"Yes. Gilligan does lack an essential element of common sense."

_My fault!_ He slid to the ground in shock, letting the glass slip from his hand. He felt sick; sicker than when he caught pneumonia when he was a kid and had to go to the hospital, sicker than he'd ever felt in his whole life. Leaning against the hut he shook his head not wanting to believe his ears. _My best buddy's only got one more day to live and it's my fault! _He tried to swallow the huge lump in his throat as the horror of the situation began to sink in. _I killed the Skipper. I'm a murderer!_

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of movement from inside the door.

"Well, thanks Professor." The Skipper was saying. "I've got to get to bed. I'm so exhausted. I feel like I've been run over by a truck."

Before the door could open Gilligan leapt up and bolted around the corner of the hut. After what he'd done he was sure the Skipper couldn't bear to look at him. When he heard the other door shut he crept out slowly.

He stood in the doorway for a moment staring at the back of the Skipper's head as he swung gently in his hammock. What do you say to a friend you've destined to death? His throat was so tight he wasn't sure he could speak at all.

Removing his hat he took a tentative step forward. "Um…Skipper?"

"What!?" Gilligan winced at the sharpness in his voice.

"I-I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

"Alotta good that's gonna do me."

"Is—is there anything I can do?"

"You've done enough already." The Skipper's eyelids were getting heavy and all he could think of was that he was so tired and wished Gilligan would go away and let him sleep.

There was a long pause as Gilligan summed up the courage to speak again. "It was an accident, Skip…uh…sir. You're my best buddy and I didn't mean to hurt you."

Being half asleep already and barely conscious of Gilligan's voice, a small grunt was the only response he could muster.

Taking the Skipper's reply as a rejection Gilligan stepped back outside. He couldn't go to bed. There was no way he could even go back into that room let alone sleep. Gazing out into the moonlit jungle he decided to take a walk and think things out.

Candle light flickered in the windows of the girl's hut. Gilligan wouldn't have paid any mind to their conversation as he passed had he not heard his name mentioned.

"Oh, Gilligan didn't mean to." Mary Ann was saying.

"Will you stop defending him! It's making me sick. After all 'ignorance is no excuse.'"

"Ginger!"

"I'm telling you he's a hazard. If it weren't for him we'd be off this island by now."

"What are you talking about?"

"I mean every time we could get rescued Gilligan blows it. And don't you give me that 'you're crazy' look either! Shall I list all the times he's put our lives in danger or prevented a sure-fire rescue?"

"Oh, Ginger, stop it."

"Remember when that space camera landed here and we were about to send our distress message to the world?"

Mary Ann rolled her eyes. "Yeah."

"Who broke the thing?"

"Gilligan, but…"

"And that crazy lion that he wouldn't let anyone touch. It could have killed us all, Mary Ann! He's ruined all of our lives, keeping us trapped on this stupid island. Not to mention he's totally ruined my acting career. By the time we get rescued I'll be too old to play in anything but 'Arsenic and Old Lace' "

Mary Ann's voice began another protest but Ginger interrupted.

"Not to mention that we wouldn't be here at all if Gilligan hadn't lost the anchor in the first place!"

"I know Gilligan can be annoying. I know he's constantly messing things up, and we probably would be rescued by now if it wasn't for him…"

Gilligan couldn't stand to listen anymore. "Even Mary Ann," he muttered, brokenhearted as he plodded on.

Just as he trudged out of hearing range she continued. "…But he cares about everyone, no matter who they are! He's the kindest, most honest, most genuine boy I've ever known. And what's more we owe him our lives."

"Oh, come on, Mary Ann. That's going a little too far."

"What about when the water ran out? It was Gilligan that found that underground cave. And the Japanese Sailor; He was the one to release us."

"Well..."

"And when that nuclear bomb thing landed on the island. Who was it that risked his life to go inside and deactivate it, huh? And the headhunter that captured us all…"

"Alright, alright!"

"I'm not finished yet. The mine, you remember the mine?"

"I get the picture, okay? Sheesh you'd think he was John Wayne or something."

--

"I'm telling you Lovey, that boy is the definition of disaster. I don't know how anyone could be that inept." Mr. Howell was saying as Gilligan trudged dejectedly passed the millionaire's hut.

"Yes." Mrs. Howell cooed. "But he's such a helpful lad."

"Very helpful. Very helpful. He'll help us all to our deaths if he keeps it up."

"You're right Thurston. Everything the poor boy dose seems to go awry. We still haven't found the radio. It's been three days and I'm dieing to hear the latest fashion news."

"Well, one thing's for sure," The millionaire said. "He's never mixing _my _drinks again."

"Don't worry Mr. Howell," Gilligan said softly to himself. "I won't be here to ask."


	6. Tears

**6. Tears**

Gilligan trudged slowly up the hill. It was fairly steep and tough going. He paused for a moment, leaning against a palm tree to catch his breath. Although it was night, the large full moon's silvery light made the dark jungle seem to glow eerily. Normally Gilligan would have stood and admired the beauty of the tropical setting; with the night creatures songs, the rush of the ocean, the fragrance of the flowers. But not tonight. Now nothing was beautiful. After what had happened he could never be happy again. How could he ever allow himself to enjoy anything after what he had done?

He took a deep breath and continued his climb. Soon he came to his destination. A level place a few meters wide lead into a small cave set into the side of the hill. The opening wasn't very large, about three feet by three. That's why it was such a great place to hide. With a deep wavering sigh he crawled inside. It expanded into a small cavern about thirteen feet deep and perhaps half that wide. The ceiling rose somewhat as well but not so much that he could stand without stooping.

Leaning against the cold stone wall he pulled his knees up to his chest. Tears welled up in his blue eyes as he stared into the darkness. "I'm sorry, Skipper." He whispered as a sob escaped his lips. Another followed, then another. Soon he was crying so hard his sides ached and he could barely take a breath. Hours passed and his voice grew weaker. Finally, with tears still running down his cheeks he finally fell into a fitful sleep just as the warm glow of dawn touched the peaceful jungle outside.


	7. Dire Announcements

**7. Dire Announcements**

It was just after breakfast. The Skipper had gotten breakfast in bed which he only mildly enjoyed before going back to sleep. The girls had finished the dishes. The only married couple on the island were reclined comfortably in their lounge chairs. Mrs. Howell was admiring the way the particularly large diamond in her wedding ring sparkled in the sunlight while Mr. Howell was reading the financial page of the same newspaper he had been reading every morning for nearly three years.

The Professor was lying comfortably in his bed reading a heavy-looking book entitled 'Everyday Uses for Quantum Physics'. There was a knock on the door followed by Mary Ann's excited voice. "We found it, Professor."

"Found what?" Opening the door he found Ginger and Mary Ann waiting just outside.

"The radio." She said as she shoved it into his hands. "But it—"

"Oh, good." He said, before she could finish and turned the knob. "Now I can track that typhoon they mentioned the other day." He waited for a sound but none came. Raising an eyebrow he glanced up at Mary Ann.

"I tried to tell you. It's broken or something."

He turned the device over in his hands. "It looks rather battered."

"Don't look at me." Mary Ann said with a shrug.

"Yeah. Gilligan had it last."

The girls watched as he removed the casing and fiddled with the wires for a few minutes. "There. Let's try it now." He turned it on and classical music immediately filled the air. "Mozart." He said casually and turned the dial until the familiar news announcer's voice came up.

"…The typhoon was last reported at…" The Professor frowned as he listened to the position. "…and has taken a severe easterly turn, moving at nearly nine miles an hour…(static)…proving to be the strongest we've seen in over two years."

"It sounds like you found the radio just in time." The Professor's face was one of concerned anticipation. "If my calculations are correct (which I am reasonably sure they are) that typhoon should hit our island by tonight. And it sounds like a big one. There's a large cave on higher ground that I've…"

"No offense Professor," Ginger said. "But the last time we hid in a cave during a storm it didn't turn out so good."

"I assure you this one is much more suited for our needs. It is perfect for just such and occasion. It is very sturdy and more than large enough for all of us and our supplies."

"That's a relief." Said Mr. Howell, as he and the missus strolled up to the table to better hear the conversation. "We were nearly pulverized last time."

"Yes," Mrs. Howell chimed in. "Appalling accommodations."

"Well," The Professor replied. "While it's not the Ritz the reservations are appropriate for the circumstances. However, we will have to start moving our things up there immediately."

"You can start with our hut." Mrs. Howell waved a hand in the direction of their abode.

"I'm afraid you two will have to work as well."

"How dare you make such a vulgar proposal in front of my wife!" Thurston pulled Lovey close to him, as if to protect her from the terrible implications of the Professor's suggestion.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Howell, but that's the way it has to be."

"Should we tell the Skipper?" Ginger asked.

He thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. "No. He needs his rest. Besides, in his condition he would be of little help. Therefore it will be all the more difficult for us. We have to have everything out of here by tonight. Every one of us must pitch in. We need all the manpower we can get."

"_Man_power, Professor?" Ginger eyed him slyly and struck a pose.

He blushed slightly and tried to ignore the comment. "We should start with the essentials, things that we all use and can't be replaced; tools, dishes, blankets and the like. Once we have them secured then we can start packing our personal belongings. Gilligan, I want you to..." The Professor stopped when he realized that Gilligan was not present. "Gilligan?" He shouted, in case he was nearby.

They all glanced around for a moment, but the first mate didn't appear.

"Where is Gilligan?"

"I don't know." Mary Ann said, sounding slightly concerned. "He wasn't at breakfast."

"Come to think of it," Mr. Howell put a thoughtful finger to his lips. "I haven't seen the boy all morning."

"He's probably just goofing off." Said the movie star sourly. "Hunting butterflies, or some other waste of time."

"I'm sure he'll be back soon." The Professor assured them. "And when he returns tell him to come to me. His help is very important now." He paused for a moment and looked over his small work detail. "Okay. Mary Ann."

"Yes?"

"Go to the supply hut and get the empty crates so we can start filling them."

She nodded and hurried off.

"Mr. and Mrs. Howell, you two get the blankets and pillows from all the huts and set them on this table."

"I can't believe we are stooping to manual labor." Mr. Howell grumbled as they headed toward their hut. "The laundry business to boot!"

"Yes, dear." Lovey patted him on the cheek. "But we wouldn't want that nasty old storm to blow our blankets away."

"What do you want me to do, Professor?" Ginger asked.

He was about to reply when there was a distressed shout from behind

"That's Mary Ann." He turned worriedly to Ginger. Before they could investigate Maryann burst into the clearing waving a piece of paper.

"Professor!" She ran up to them with tears in her eyes

"What's wrong?"

"Are you hurt?" The Professor asked.

She shook her head and handed him the paper. "I found this pinned to the supply hut. It's from Gilligan."

He sighed in frustration. They didn't have time for this. But as he read the note he began to worry.

Deer every body,

Im sory I ruind your lives. I didnt mean to.

I espeshally didnt mean to kill the Skipper.

Im going away so I can't hurt any body ever again

I hope you all get rescued now that I'm not heer to mes it up.

Gilligan

"What did he mean, 'kill the Skipper'?" Ginger looked genuinely worried, (for the Skipper)

"The only theory I would have is he must have somehow gotten the impression that the pie he made for the Skipper was lethal."

Mary Ann was chewing worriedly on a fingernail. "You don't think he'd do anything desperate do you?"

The Professor's voice was grave. "I don't know Mary Ann. If he thinks he killed his best friend..."

"My this work business is tiring." The Howells came out of their hut, each carrying a large pile of blankets. They set them down on the table. Mr. Howell panted as if he was about ready to give out from exhaustion. He glanced around at the others, who were just standing there looking worried. "Are we," He motioned to himself and Lovey. "the only ones doing hard labor?!"

"Read this." The Professor handed him the note.

"Good heavens!" He shouted after reading it over. "We've got to find the lad immediately."

"Yes. The poor boy sounds quite upset. We should send out a search party." Mrs. Howell touched a finger thoughtfully to her chin. "Oh, dear. What does one wear to a search party?"

"Yes." Mary Ann nodded emphatically. "Let's go look for him."

"Wait a minute." The Professor put a restraining hand on her shoulder. "We have _two_ dilemmas that require our immediate attention. Yes, we must find Gilligan. However, we must also get our supplies to the cave before nightfall."

"What are we going to do?"

"We must approach the problem in a scientific manner. Since it doesn't take as much effort to search for Gilligan as it does hauling crates it follows that those who are unaccustomed to heavy work should search while the others relocate the provisions. Now, I'll stay and work here. Mary Ann, you had work experience on your father's farm so you can help with the supplies."

She just nodded. But she really wanted to look for Gilligan. Her heart ached from worry.

"The rest of you can search for Gilligan. It would be wise to split up so you cover more area."

Ginger watched the Howells go, then turned to the Professor. She rubbed his shoulders for a moment, then whispered in his ear. "But I'd much rather stay here with you."

It had taken a bit of thought to decide whether she should stay or go, but the more he considered it the more he realized Gilligan needed to be found. He shrugged her hands off and turned to look at her. "I think it would be better if you didn't. Mary Ann and I will do fine. It'll only take me about half an hour to build a wagon so things will go faster."

"_Well. _If that's the way you feel about it." She turned abruptly and stomped into the jungle.

He just shook his head and sighed.

After a moment Mary Ann touched his arm. "Professor." Her large brown eyes were full of worry. "What if they haven't found him before the typhoon hits?"

He sighed and looked away. "Let's just hope it doesn't come to that."


	8. The Search

**8. The Search**

"Skipper." The Professor shook the captain's shoulder gently. "Skipper, wake up."

"What is it?" He grumbled groggily without opening his eyes.

"How are you feeling?"

He slowly opened one eye than the other and seemed to ponder the question for a moment as he stretched and sat up on the edge of his hammock. "I feel a lot better than last night, that's for sure. I'm still a little sore, though." He said as he rubbed a shoulder.

"Anymore nightmares?"

"Oh, thank goodness, no. One was enough!" He shuddered at the memory.

"Do you think you'd be up to a little walk?"

"I guess so. Why?"

"We found the radio this morning. You remember that typhoon I was tracking a couple of days ago?"

"Yeah."

"It should be hitting our island very soon. I found a large cave where we can ride out the storm. We've already relocated our most vital belongings."

The Skipper looked around the room for the first time. It was noticeably bare. His sea chest and duffle bag were gone, as were all Gilligan's things. Really, the only items left was the furniture. "Why didn't you wake me up? I would have helped."

"No, Skipper. You needed your rest. We did alright. Although I admit it was rather difficult."

"Did Gilligan give you any trouble?" The Skipper asked as he rose to his feet. This time there was no dizziness.

A rather pained expression came over the Professor's face. He didn't answer. Instead he said: "We need to get to the cave before the storm starts. The others are already there."

"Well let's get going." The Skipper marched to the door.

"You seem to be recovering well." The Professor remarked as they stepped outside.

"I'm fine now." He looked up at the darkening clouds. The wind was picking up and he had to hold onto his hat as he walked.

As they entered the cave the Skipper was greeted warmly by his fellow castaways.

"We were really worried about you." Mary Ann squeezed his arm and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Did you really miss me that much?"

"We missed you _this_ much." Ginger gave him a long soft kiss right on the lips.

When she let up he blushed a deep crimson and chuckled. "Wow." Was all he could say.

"Yes." Mr. Howell gave him a pat on the back. "We were worried about who would do the work."

"Very funny." The captain said with a wry grin.

The relief over the Captain's recovery didn't seem to last, however, as everyone soon sat down on the crates that lined the cave walls. Ginger lit a lantern and they all sat in silence for a long while. The Skipper noticed that they looked unusually glum.

_Looks like its time for a pep talk from the Captain._ He thought. "Why the sad faces? This is only a little storm, not the end of the world. We've been through worse than this. I mean, we're all safe, right?" It was beginning to get dark outside and the wind was howling loudly. "At least we have a dry place to stay and we're not stuck out there."

Nobody said a word.

A strange feeling began to creep over him. Something was not quite right, like an important piece of the picture before him was missing. Not something, some_one._

"Gilligan!" He nearly shouted in sudden realization. "Where's Gilligan?"

At the mention of the name Mary Ann buried her face in her hands and burst into tears.

Ginger pulled her close. "It's okay, Mary Ann. I'm sure he'll be alright."

She looked up at her friend, tears running down her cheeks. "Do you really think so, or are you just acting?"

"What's wrong?" He gave the Professor a stern glare. "Where's Gilligan!?"

"Mary Ann found this pinned to the supply hut." The Professor handed him a piece of paper. His face was grim and he seemed reluctant to meet the Skipper's eyes.

As he read the note his heart sank and he began to feel queasy again.

Deer every body,

Im sory I ruind your lives. I didnt mean to.

I espeshally didnt mean to kill the Skipper.

Im going away so I can't hurt any body ever again

I hope you all get rescued now that I'm not heer to mes it up.

Gilligan

_Oh, my poor Little Buddy! _He thought as he swallowed hard, a thousand questions running through his mind. _Where is he now? Is he safe? Would he hurt himself? Doesn't he know we care about him? How could he do this _now_? Why would he think he killed me?_

"He must have overheard us last night." The Professor said softly, answering the Skipper's unspoken question.

In less than a second the Skipper's distress turned to anger. "Why didn't you tell me about this?" His booming voice echoed off the cave walls. "Why aren't you out there looking for him instead of sitting in your little hole like a bunch of frightened rats?!"

"Rats?! How dare you." Mr. Howell rose indignantly. "Mink perhaps, but rats never!"

Mary Ann was really bawling now. "He's right!" She sobbed. "We should have all been looking for him the whole time, instead of getting the stupid supplies."

"You have no right to speak to them like that." The Professor stood up straight in front of the imposing sailor. "For one thing Ginger and the Howell's were out looking for him most of the day. Second we needed someone to bring these supplies up here before the storm. And third I won't allow anyone outside in that weather."

"You are not the captain."

"No I'm not. But would you seriously order your friends into such a perilous situation?"

The Skipper looked around the cave, first to the Howells then Ginger, then Mary Ann then back to the Professor. "No." He said softly.

The Professor put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We're just as worried about Gilligan as you are."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell like that. Of course none of you could go out there." He looked once again out into the stormy darkness. "That's why I'm going myself."

There was a barrage of protests as he found an extra lantern and lit it.

"It's a noble gesture, Captain." Mr. Howell hugged his teddy bear tight. But you'll never find the lad in the dark. You could get lost."

"Oh, Thurston, don't be ridiculous. How could anybody get lost on this tiny little island?"

Ginger slowly snuck an arm around his neck. "Why don't you stay here, with me?"

He pushed her gently away, not bothering to reply.

Mary Ann touched his arm. "Oh, Skipper, we want to find Gilligan too, but we don't want you to go out there and get hurt."

He smiled a little and patted her cheek. "I'll be fine." With that he turned and stepped outside.

The Professor followed. The sudden force of the wind nearly knocked him down. He put a hand on his friend's shoulder, partly for balance, as the cold rain pelted them both. "You can't do this, Skipper. Mr. Howell is right; you'll never find him out here. You're still not well." He had to shout over the rising storm.

"You are wrong, Professor. I have to do this. Look at this storm. Gilligan's my Little Buddy and he's out there somewhere all by himself and scared to death. He needs me." His voice lowered slightly. "Besides, if anything happens to him out there tonight and I didn't even _try_ to find him I…I'd just never forgive myself."

"Then I'll go with you."

"No. I'm used to weather like this. I know how to handle it. Besides somebody with brains has to keep the others calm. And I might know where Gilligan is. There's a cave about half a mile from here he's been messing around in lately. I don't think he knows I know about it. He might be there."

"Alright." The Professor heaved a defeated sigh. "Be careful. If it gets too violent out there don't hesitate to find shelter." He then took the Skipper's hand and shook it briskly. "Bring him home safe."

"I will." The Skipper nodded and walked out into the stormy darkness with only the faint glow of a small lantern to guide him.


	9. Reunion

**9. Reunion**

The storm pounded the jungle relentlessly. Wind howled through the palm trees driving buckets of rain pounding into the already drenched sand. Inside the cave, sheltered from the violent weather, Gilligan shifted restlessly in his sleep.

"Whacha doin' Professor?" Gilligan strolled up to the table where the Professor was tinkering with a strange looking conglomeration of metal plates, wires and blinking lights.

"This device is going to get us rescued." The Professor said, setting the object gently onto a makeshift bamboo tripod.

"How's that funny lookin' thing going to get us off the island?"

The Professor smiled. "It's very simple; blah blah blah blah. This wire blah blah blah. These components blah blah blah. Blah blah. Understand?"

Gilligan stared blankly for a moment then said: "Most of it."

"What part didn't you understand?"

"The part after 'it's very simple'."

The Professor rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh that said 'he is hopeless'.

"It sure is weird looking." Gilligan said as he reached out to touch the object. The Professor let out a small yelp and grabbed Gilligan's hand.

"Don't touch it."

Gilligan frowned. "Why not?"

"Because it's highly explosive. The chemical components are such that if it is mishandled in any way it could blow up the entire planet."

Gilligan's eyes widened and he jerked his hand back.

Noting the first mate's reaction the Professor nodded. "That's right. Now stay away from it."

Gilligan nodded vigorously and did an about face, planning on getting as far away from the contraption as possible. But on his first step his foot landed squarely on a banana peel. His foot slid out from under him and he toppled backward crashing into the tripod.

"Gilligan!" The Professor shouted as he lifted the device out of the sand where it had fallen. "Do you realize what you've done?" The Professor stared at him in horror. "Everything on the entire earth is going to blow up because of you!"

"What's going on here?" The Skipper asked as the rest of the castaway's came over to see what all the commotion was about.

The Professor explained quickly. "We've got about sixty seconds until the end of the world." He held the object and pointed out a countdown device.

"Gilligan, you knucklehead!" The Skipper shouted.

Mary Ann looked frightened. "Oh, Gilligan, how could you?"

"Gilligan!" Ginger struck a distressed pose.

"Gilligan!" Mr. Howell yelled, and then grumbled under his breath. "There goes the stock market.

"Oh, dear," Mrs. Howell said. "What does one wear to the end of the world?

5, 4, 3, 2, 1

Lightning flashed across the black sky. The following clap of thunder echoed deafeningly through the tiny cave. Gilligan's eyes shot open and he bolted upright, panting, sweating and shouting. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to blow up the world. I didn't mean to." His breathing slowed as his consciousness took in the cool sand beneath him and the sounds of the storm outside. "It was just a dream." He sighed in relief. "Boy what a nightmare. Thank goodness I woke up in time." He said to himself. But then he began to remember why he was in the cave in the first place and suddenly wished he was dreaming again. "Skipper." He whispered softly as a tear rolled down his cheek and he buried his face in his hands.

Several minutes passed. Suddenly his head snapped up. Cocking it to one side he listened very carefully. Had he heard a voice rise faintly above the raging storm? After what felt like an eternity it came again, more clearly this time.

"Gilligan!"

Someone was calling him. He crawled to the entrance of the cave and stared out into the darkness. The wind drove the rain several feet into the cave and he was instantly soaked. He reached up to hold his hat on and realized it must have fallen off while he was sleeping. He was about to go back in and get it when he saw a faint light coming from just over the edge of the hill.

"Gilligan!"

The voice was much louder this time and for a moment he felt his heart had stopped beating. It was impossible. Wasn't it? "Skipper?" He said softly, not believing his ears.

The light got brighter as it approached and the call came again.

This time Gilligan called back uncertainly. "Skipper!?"

"Gilligan, is that you Little Buddy?" The voice took shape as the captain cleared the rise, his lantern held high.

"Skipper, it is you!" Gilligan cried and bolted from the cave. His momentum got him about ten feet before the force of the wind blew him right over. The next thing he knew the Skipper had lifted him to his feet and embraced him in a bear hug.

"I'm sorry, Skipper. I'm sorry!" Was all he could say as he hugged back, tears streaming down his face along with the rain. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I know you didn't. It's okay, Little Buddy. Everything's okay. Oh, Gilligan I was so worried about you." He broke the embrace and held Gilligan at arms length. If he let go he was afraid his pal might just blow away. "I should kick you into next week for running off and scaring everybody like that!"

The yellow lantern light illuminated his face as Gilligan just stared up at his best friend with a mixture of guilt, relief and worry. "How come you're not…" he swallowed hard barely able to say the word. "…dead. Someone in your condition should be laying down."

"I don't know how you got that idea. But I'm fine. Now, we need to go back to the others. I'm sure their worried to death about us."

Gilligan shrugged the Skipper's hands off his shoulders and took a step back, struggling to keep his balance on his own. "I'm not goin' back."

"It's safer there. Unless you've got a better idea."

"I mean I'm not going back…ever."

Light streaked across the sky. "What do you mean? Of course you're going back!"

Gilligan shook his head. "Everybody's right; I'm nothin' but trouble. All I ever do is goof things up. I should have listened to my father. I'm just a dumb kid, one big problem."

"Nonsense! Nobody feels that way about you here."

"I heard them with my own ears, Skipper! I know I'm not the smartest guy around, and I don't mind being called dumb. B-But Ginger says I ruined her career and I'm a danger to everyone. So does Mr. Howell. Mrs. Howell says everything I ever do goes awry. Now I don't know what awry means but I'm sure it ain't good. And the Professor…" There was a loud cracking sound and Gilligan looked up.

The Skipper ignored the sound and took Gilligan's pause as an opportunity to interrupt. "Now you listen here! I don't care what you heard. Everybody on this island is your friend. We care about you Little Buddy."

"Uh, Skipper." Gilligan was not listening. He was nervously watching a branch about ten feet above the Skipper's head. It was cracked in the middle and bent nearly in half.

"I'm talking, Gilligan! Now, I know you make mistakes. But so does everybody. And there's no reason to…"

The limb bounced precariously in the wind and Gilligan was sure it would fall any second. "But, Skipper!" He pointed.

"Will you stop interrupting me?! What I'm saying is important."

There was another 'crack' as it broke free from the tree and plummeted down toward the captain. "Skipper, look out!!" Gilligan leapt forward and rammed into the Skipper for all he was worth and sent them both falling backwards down the slope just as the severed limb crashed to the ground where the Skipper had been standing a second earlier.

The Skipper threw out his hands and was able to stop himself from falling more than a few feet. But Gilligan had tried to roll into the fall and once he started he couldn't stop. He tumbled head over heels through the underbrush, the steep slope adding to his speed. It was too dark to see the bushes but he felt the twigs scratch his face as he rushed by. As he somersaulted over and over he felt there was no way he could stop his dizzying decent. Then there was a tree, stabbing pain, an explosion of colors, then nothing.


	10. Found

**10. Found**

Pain. For the longest time that's all there was. Gilligan never realized how many different kinds of pain there were or that it was possible to feel them all at once; burning from multiple scrapes, a sharp stinging in his right leg and his shoulder was sore where he was sure he pulled a muscle. But his head felt the worse. It throbbed relentlessly and with each pulse he couldn't help but whimper.

After what seemed like forever the pain in his head lessened somewhat. Other sensations began to impress themselves upon his consciousness. A shiver ran through his body as he realized he was cold. He didn't know a tropical island could ever get this cold. And wet. His cloths were soaked, his skin was soaked and the sand he was laying in was grainy sludge. He could now feel the rain pelting his face, mingling with the warm liquid trickling down his forehead.

He opened his eyes slowly but saw nothing but a blurry darkness. There was a sudden flash of light and a loud rumble that made his heart skip a beat.

"Gilligan! Where are you, Little Buddy?" The Skipper's voice was close.

He called back but it came out as barely more than whisper. He tried again, louder this time. "I'm over here, Skipper!"

"Where? Are you alright?"

"Over here." He tried to push himself up but his arms felt like spaghetti and wouldn't hold him.

The next thing he knew the felt the Skipper's hand grip his arm and was pulled to his feet. He groaned as the change in position brought his headache back with renewed force. Gilligan was glad of the Skipper's strong arm around his waist. If it wasn't for the support he knew he would either collapse or blow away.

"What happened? I've been calling you for nearly ten minutes."

"I'm not sure but I think I hit my head." Gilligan said weakly, cradling his still throbbing head.

The Skipper looked up at the sky. "We can't go back to the others. It's too far. We have to get out of this storm now!"

"The cave just up the hill, we can stay there." He took a step in that direction and gave out small yelp.

"What's wrong?"

"My leg hurts."

"Is it broken?"

"No. I'll be alright. It just stings."

The Skipper had lost the lantern in his fall and it seemed to take forever to climb those forty feet in the dark, fighting the rain and wind. But the Skipper was finally able to drag Gilligan into the cave.

Relieved to get out of the storm they crawled to the back of the small cavern. The Skipper leaned against the stone wall, exhausted. A few feet away Gilligan pulled his knees up to his chest and crossed his arms trying to keep warm.

"What is that strange clicking sound?" The Skipper asked after he caught his breath.

"M-my t-t-teeth."

"Get over here, Gilligan. I'll get you warm." He reached over, grabbed him by the arm and pulled him over to his side. Putting his big arm around his little friend he could feel him shivering violently. Trying to lighten the mood he said: "I don't have to worry about getting cold like you do. I've got a lot more insulation." He laughed heartily. He couldn't see Gilligan's face in the dark but he knew he was grinning too. After a moment he stopped laughing and his voice turned serious. "Are you alright, Little Buddy?"

"I think I'll be okay." Gilligan said, not too sincerely.

"Are you hurt?"

"I've got a really bad headache that's making me a little dizzy and I think I cut my leg when I fell. I think even my bruises have bruises."

"We'll have the Professor look at you tomorrow."

There was a long silence. "Skipper?"

"What is it, Little Buddy?"

"I really am sorry. I didn't know those berries were poison."

"I know. And I forgive you. Now, I don't want you to ever think about it again, and that's an order!"

"Yes, sir."

For a while they just sat there and listened to the howling storm outside. Slowly Gilligan stopped shivering.

"Skipper."

"What?"

"I'm glad you're not going to die."

The Skipper smiled and hugged Gilligan a little tighter. "Me too."


	11. Morning Has Broken

**11. Morning Has Broken**

The Skipper woke up to the unusual combination of bird song and a cold hard rock against his back. He shifted uncomfortably and opened his eyes. He couldn't help but smile as he looked down. Gilligan was curled up at his side with his head resting on the Skipper's stomach. "Rise and shine, Little Buddy." He gave Gilligan a gentle nudge. He didn't respond. "Come on, Gilligan. We've got to go back. Everybody's got to be worried sick about us." He scooted over just enough so Gilligan slipped off his stomach and into the sand. This didn't faze him either. _Boy, he sure is a sound sleeper. Either that or he's trying to be funny._ "That's enough of this foolishness, Gilligan. Now get _up_!" Determined to make his first mate listen he took him by the shoulders and shook him. Gilligan stayed limp as a rag doll in his hands. His eyes didn't so much as flicker. The Skipper was beginning to get worried. "Gilligan, Little Buddy. Hey, Gilligan, are you okay?" This time he leaned over his young friend and gently patted his face. His mouth dropped as he pulled his hand away quickly, alarmed at what he felt. To be sure he pushed Gilligan's hair back and held his palm over his forehead. He swallowed hard and exclaimed: "Oh, my poor Little Buddy. You're burning up!" He moved his hand from Gilligan's head to his chest and was startled at how shallow and uneven his breathing was.

There was very little light inside the cave and the Skipper realized he couldn't find what was wrong with Gilligan in the dark. So, very carefully, he pulled him backward out of the cave.

As they came into the light two things immediately caught the Skipper's attention. First there was a small cut just above Gilligan's hairline and the surrounding bruise stretched well down his forehead. Second there was a very large red stain on his right pant leg. He lifted the material and shuddered at what he found beneath. There was a four-inch long gash that extended down his calf. It was no longer bleeding but badly infected. A large area around it was red and swollen.

For a long while he just sat there, stunned, staring at the motionless form of his best friend. Finally he shook his head. "What am I doing, just sitting here?" He asked himself. Reaching down he gently lifted Gilligan from the sand. "Everything's going to be fine, Little Buddy. We're going to go see the Professor and you'll be alright."


	12. A Stitch In Time

**12. A Stitch in Time**

The Professor stepped back to survey his handy work. One wall of the supply hut was regrassed. All the huts were still amazingly in place, or what was left of them. The terrific winds had ripped the grass roofs and siding right off so all that remained was the bamboo framework. Most of the furniture was still there, although tossed about. The communal table was still firmly rooted in the sand.

He sat at the table sullenly. He couldn't really enjoy his work, not now. Not until they found Gilligan and the Skipper. Everyone else was out searching and he had volunteered to stay at camp in case they returned. But so far there was no sign of the captain or the crew and he was beginning to fear the worst when he heard the Skipper's voice.

"Professor!"

He could just see the captain's hat over the nearest bushes. He leapt to his feet to greet his comrade. "Skipper! Are you alright? Did you find…?" His voice trailed off as the Skipper stepped out into the compound and he saw what he was carrying. He could tell at once that Gilligan's condition was serious and it wasn't just from the Skipper's grave face. The giant bruise on the first mate's head and his ghost white complexion made the Professor's blood run cold.

A million questions ran through his mind as he stared at the limp form cradled in the Skipper's arms. 'What happened' came to mind first. But there was not time for lengthy explanations. He would ask later.

"Put him on the table." He instructed and he ran to get his medical bag.

The Skipper nodded, looking rather dazed as he carefully laid his first mate down.

"How long has he been like this?" The Professor asked as he returned and stuck a thermometer in Gilligan's mouth.

The Skipper shook his head keeping his eyes on Gilligan. "I'm not sure. I woke up this morning and he just…didn't."

The Professor ran his fingers gently over the first mate's scalp hoping beyond hope that there would be no sign of fracture, for he had neither the skills nor the tools to treat such an injury. He gave a small sigh of relief when he found his friend's skull was in tact. "Tell me what happened, briefly."

"We were outside in the storm." The Skipper began. "A limb broke off from a tree above us. If Gilligan hadn't pushed me out of the way I'd be a gonner. We both fell backwards. It was a steep hill. I managed to stop but Gilligan kept going. I called him, but he didn't answer. It was about ten minutes before he finally answered I found him. He said he hit his head."

"So he was conscious when you found him?"

"Yes. He seemed alright then."

"This relapse into unconsciousness means he probably has a severe concussion."

The Skipper bit his bottom lip. "That's bad, isn't it Professor?"

The Professor nodded gravely. "It can be very bad." After a long pause he asked; "Did he complain of any symptoms?"

"Well, when we got back up to the cave he'd been staying in he said he had a bad headache that was making him dizzy and his leg hurt. We both fell asleep not long after that."

"Hmmm." Was the Professor's only response as he held Gilligan's wrist and looked at his watch and frowned. "His pulse is rapid and very weak. I think he's gone into shock."

"He's got a fever too."

The Professor took the thermometer out of Gilligan's mouth and frowned. "Yes, I see. And a high one at that."

"There's a bad cut on his leg." The Skipper wrung his hands anxiously, willing the Professor to move faster.

"I'm getting to that." He lifted Gilligan's pant leg and his eyes widened considerably. "Oh, my! That needs immediate attention."

There was a rustling in the foliage behind them. The two men turned to see Mary Ann and Ginger stroll into the clearing. "It's good to see you, Skipper." Ginger said and planted a big kiss on his cheek.

Mary Ann nodded. "We've been out looking for you all morning. Everyone's been worried about you and…" A look of complete horror crossed her face as the Skipper stepped aside and she got a good look at the table. "GILLIGAN!" For a moment the Professor was afraid she might faint. She clamped one hand over her mouth and tears welled up in her eyes as she stepped forward and touched the first mate's cheek with the back of her hand. He was so hot. For a long moment she just stood there. Finally she turned to the Professor, a question on her lips.

"Captain!" Mr. Howell called as he stepped into view, his wife at his arm. "Glad to see that—Good heavens! What happened here? Is the poor boy alright?"

"No." The Professor answered immediately. "No he's not alright. He's going to need your help. We have to work quickly." He turned to the girls. "Ginger, Maryann, get some water boiling."

"Yes, Professor." Mary Ann couldn't take her eyes off Gilligan. Ginger had to take her by the arm and lead her away.

"Mr. and Mrs. Howell, you two can go back to the cave and get a couple of blankets and some bandages."

"Will do, Professor." And the two millionaires were off.

It wasn't long before a small fire burned in the clearing. Boiling water dripped down the sides of a large black pot, suspended by a bamboo framework over the flames. White sterile bandages made from torn sheets dried on the clothes line.

Gilligan still lay unconscious on the table, his head and shoulders now propped up by a folded blanket and a white dressing was wrapped around his forehead.

Mary Ann reached into the pot with a pair of tongs and pulled out the Professor's 'scalpel' (really the Skipper's pocket knife hone to a razor edge) from the boiling water and set it on a small tray near the table, next to the needle and thread that had already been sterilized.

"Thank you Mary Ann." The Professor said as he rolled up Gilligan's pant leg and examined the wound closely.

"Is this really necessary, Professor." The Skipper asked from where he sat at the other side of the table.

The Professor looked up. "Skipper, if I don't lance this and remove the excess infection now he's only going to get worse."

The Skipper nodded, sullenly, trying to swallow the lump in his throat as he held Gilligan's hand.

The Professor stood and addressed the rest of the castaways. "What I am about to do is not for the faint of heart, so if you have weak constitutions I suggest you don't watch."

Both the Howell's looked at each other. "Perhaps we could go retrieve some more of our things from the cave." Mrs. Howell suggested.

"You are so right, Lovey. After all, first aid is hardly a spectator sport." And with that they headed off into the jungle.

Mary Ann sat opposite the Skipper just staring at Gilligan's face wondering if he would ever wake up again. Ginger stood behind her friend, deliberately turning her head away from the Professor was about to do.

With a nod the Professor sat back down took a deep breath and made the incision. Gilligan's reaction was immediate. His whole body tensed and he let out a small whimper. His grip tightened around the Skipper's hand and the captain squeezed back. "It's alright, Little Buddy. Everything is going to be okay." He hoped and prayed that those words were not a lie and that Gilligan could hear them.

"He felt that. Good." The Professor said without looking up.

The Skipper gave him an incredulous look. "Good?"

Without further explanation the Professor set down his scalpel, picked up the needle and thread and proceeded to stitch up the cut. He finished the operation and the captain could feel Gilligan's hand relax its grip.

The makeshift island surgeon then went to get one of the bandages and dipped half of it into the boiling pot. He waited a moment for it to cool slightly and took it back over to the first mate. "Girls, come here. I want you to watch this carefully."

Ginger peeked over his shoulder and Mary Ann scooted over on the bench. For the first time they got a good look at Gilligan's leg.

"That's got to hurt." Ginger said, grimacing.

"Ooh, poor Gilligan!" Mary Ann cried. One part of her wanted to throw her arms around the nearest person and cry on their shoulder. The other part wanted to run away, find a small, secure space and never come out again. Instead she just sat there and watched attentively as the Professor demonstrated the bandaging procedure.

"Every half hour you need to change the dressing, alternating between a warm moist cloth and a dry one."

"For how long?" Ginger asked.

"Until the inflammation goes down and the infection diminishes." He said as he rose to his feet. "I'm going to see if I can find any suitable ingredients to make a crude antibiotic." And with that he started for the jungle.

"Professor?" He stopped in mid-stride and turned to find the Skipper had followed him. The captain swallowed hard, afraid of his own question. "Is he…Is my Little Buddy going to be alright?"

The Professor was very quiet for a moment. "I don't know. He's almost certainly lost a lot of blood since those cuts went untreated all night. I have no way of knowing how severe the internal damage to his head is. The only thing I can do is try to treat the infection and hope his fever goes down." He glanced back at the table where Gilligan lay and then back at the Skipper. "Honestly, I've never felt more helpless in my life." There was a long pause then the Professor finally said; "Come and find me if his condition changes."


	13. Memories

**13. Memories**

"Here you are, Skipper." Ginger said rather unenthusiastically as she handed him his breakfast. The Skipper stared down at the plate in his lap. There was a fillet of red snapper, a piece of lobster tail and a good helping of fruit salad. Normally this would have been only an appetizer as compared with the captain's usually large appetite. But today he just couldn't bring himself to eat anything. With a deep sigh he set the plate down on the bench next to him.

"You need to eat something, Skipper." Ginger said, picking up the plate and trying to hand it back to him.

"No thanks, Ginger. I'm just not hungry."

The truth was nobody had felt like eating much. Or saying much either, for that matter.

Nearly an hour had passed since the Professor left and Gilligan's condition had not changed. The Skipper hadn't moved once from his friend's side, hoping beyond hope that he would wake up and everything would be fine, and thinking what life would be like if he didn't. He'd known Gilligan for about six years now; six months in the Navy, two and a half years in Hawaii on the charter boat and three years stranded on a deserted island. Over that time they had grown very close.

What Gilligan had done for him last night reminded him of a similar incident nearly six years ago, not long after he had met the new recruit. He'd pushed the captain out of harms way then too. The Skipper had expressed great commendation and gratitude to the young sailor. He had apparently taken this praise as an invitation to friendship, for after that Gilligan followed him everywhere. It got to the point of being extremely infuriating. And when the Skipper left the Navy and moved to Hawaii Gilligan followed him there too.

He had not known this at first. It had been nearly two months since he had moved to the island harbor and only one day since he had purchased his new boat. He nearly smiled as he remembered that day. Of course the first thing you do for any boat is give it a name. He had been painting the newly christened _S.S. Minnow_, and was just beginning the 'w' when there was a tap on his back accompanied with a rather loud; "Hi sir!" He jumped in surprise, thus causing a large, black and very unsightly brushstroke on the hull of his new ship. Angry at the intrusion he whirled around only to be confused into silence at Gilligan's smiling face.

"Becha didn't expect to find me here, huh?"

"You? What are you doing here?!"

Gilligan shrugged, looked down and toed the planks on the dock. "I donno. My year hitch was up last month and I didn't reenlist. I decided that that Navy wasn't for me."

"Where'd you get that idea?"

"Sgt. Anderson told me."

"You mean the sergeant that replaced me?"

Gilligan nodded.

Jonas Grumby frowned. "Why would he say a thing like that?"

"Because I tripped during a drill and pushed the admiral overboard." He looked up sheepishly. "Then fell in myself when I tried to toss him a life preserver."

He shook his head. This kid was just one accident after another.

"Anyway, I heard you left the Navy and moved to Hawaii. It sounded like a great idea. I mean with all the drums…" His hands went wild for a moment as he played some invisible bongos accompanied by some pretty convincing sound effects. "…and the hula…"

The captain couldn't help but laugh at Gilligan's impression of the native dance. "So where are you staying?"

"With old lady Ohomo. I think she's like a hundred years old. She owns a little souvenir shop over that way." He waved his arm in the general direction of the shore. "I've been helping her collect shells for her store, but she says I'll have to leave if I don't find a job soon because I'm 'eating her out of house and home.'"

"Well, what's keeping you from getting one?"

"Oh, I can get them pretty easy. It's keeping them that's hard."

The captain sighed. He could see how that could be a problem with this kid. "Did you try Kahuna's bakery? They're hiring."

Gilligan nodded. "I still have dough in my ears."

"How about Jiffy's Cleaners?"

"Starch can be dangerous." Was his only reply.

"Mindy's Bar and Grill?"

"Did you read Friday's newspaper?" Gilligan asked.

"Yes."

"The 'Steak Sauce Incident'?"

The captain's eyes widened. "_You_ did that?"

"I didn't mean to! Anyway, Mindy said that she was going to call every business in town and tell them what kind of employee I was. Since then nobody's hiring."

Jonas looked into Gilligan's sad eyes for a moment and wished there was something he could do to help. After all, the boy had saved his life.

"I've been lookin' all over for you since I got here. And since I finally found you I thought I'd come over and say hi." After a second thought he added: "Um…Sir."

"Don't call me 'sir'. We're not in the Navy anymore."

"Uh…okay." He looked a bit confused for a moment, as if he didn't know what else to call him. "Is that your ship?"

The new captain smiled proudly. "Yep. Just got her yesterday. I'm now the Skipper of the _S.S. Minnow_!"

"That's great, Skipper!"

He nodded. "She's going to be a charter boat. I think some of those rich tourists would pay a nice price for a three-hour tour of the coastline, don't you think?"

Gilligan smiled. "I'll bet. Boy, she really is a beaut'." Gilligan frowned a bit as he looked more closely. "Although you really should repaint the name. There's a big black smear right…ouch!"

"That's your fault, you know." The Skipper said replacing his hat.

Gilligan rubbed the top of his head and stared at the captain in surprise. It hadn't hurt, just startled him.

The Skipper smiled at Gilligan's reaction. Maybe there was more uses than he thought for a captain's hat. He put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Would you like to come aboard and have a look around?"

"Really? Oh, boy!" With that Gilligan hopped on the deck and began a running commentary of every single thing he saw and how his best friend Skinny Mulligan's father's cousin's husband's brother had a boat too.

He laughed at the young man's unrestrained excitement.

_This kid is never going to find a job around here. _The captain thought sadly as he watched him admire the boat. _Not with the reputation he's made for himself. I wish I could help him._

"Who's your first mate?" Gilligan asked as he played at the helm.

"First Mate?"

"Yeah. Every captain has a first mate. Didn't you know that, Skipper?"

He watched Gilligan thoughtfully, kicking himself for what he was thinking. _A first mate? I suppose I could use a little help. After all, it's not easy keeping a ship in ship shape alone, especially when you're running a business. And he _does_ need a job. I know I'll be sorry…But here goes._

A sudden rattling noise brought the Skipper back to the present. He turned to see the Professor enter the clearing pulling the wagon he had built the day before. It was piled high with pieces of chemistry equipment he had retrieved from the cave, along with an assortment of roots, bark and leaves.

"Has his condition changed since I've been gone?" He asked as he brought his island made stethoscope over and began to check Gilligan's vitals.

The Skipper shook his head. "I don't think so." He watched the Professor's face intently, searching for any sign of hope. When none came he asked anxiously; "Anything?"

The Professor shook his head sadly. "His breathing is beginning to stabilize. Besides that I can't detect much improvement." He paused for a moment as he caught the Skipper's eyes, so full of worry and he felt the pressure of his knowledge. He was glad that he had some know how to help Gilligan, but that ability gave him responsibility. Everyone was looking to him for a miracle. If he failed… "I'll be in the remains of my hut working on an antibiotic." He said as he took his wagon and started for the framework of his quarters.


	14. Pleading

**14. Pleading**

"Skipper?" Mary Ann's hesitant voice broke the silence. "What happened last night?"

Sighing deeply, he turned away from Gilligan to address the other castaways. The truth was he really didn't want to talk about it but as he looked at them each in turn and saw the concern on their faces he realized that they had a right to know.

"I had a hunch I might know where he might be," He began. "So after I left you guys it didn't take me long to find the cave he was hiding in. He heard me calling and came out to meet me."

"I bet he was happy to see you alive." Mary Ann said.

The Skipper nodded. "Yeah, the little guy was pretty choked up about that. So anyway I told him we should go back to the cave the Professor had found. But he said he wasn't ever coming back! I think he planned on living in that little cave for the rest of his life."

"What?" The others chorused.

"Why would he do a thing like that?" Mary Ann asked. "He knows we love him."

"That's what I said. But he was convinced otherwise. Apparently he heard some of us talking last night. He said he ruined Ginger and Mr. Howell's careers. Nothing he ever does goes right, and nobody wants him around."

"Oh," Mary Ann turned to Ginger. "He must have overheard those things you said about him."

The moviestar just gave a small nod of acknowledgement.

"Oh dear." Mrs. Howell said to her husband. "The things we said weren't very complimentary either."

"Yes, Lovey, but we didn't know the little peeping tom was _listening._" He turned appealingly to the Skipper. "We weren't _trying_ to hurt the dear lad's feelings."

"I'm sure you weren't, Mr. Howell. The Professor and I said a few things he probably heard too." At that moment he remembered the complete devastation in his Little Buddy's voice when he had come to apologize to him the other night. _He wasn't just sorry he made me sick, he was apologizing for killing me! And I just brushed him off. How could I have spoke to him like that?_

"Skipper?" Mary Ann put a gentle hand on his shoulder, and he realized he had stopped his narration and had been staring. "If you can't talk about it now, it's okay."

He shook his head. "No, it's fine. I was just thinking. Anyway, I tried to explain to him that we were just upset and didn't really mean any of those things. But I don't think he heard me. That's when a tree limb broke off above us and he pushed me out of the way. He saved my life that night, and I didn't even thank him for it." His voice started to crack and the Skipper had to pause for a moment to regain his composure, than continued. "He fell quite a ways down that hill. It was sometime during that fall that he was hurt. He seemed okay when I found him and we went back up to the cave. But this morning he…he just didn't wake up."

A solemn hush fell over the small group as each castaway retreated into their own thoughts.

Guilt was a feeling that was relatively new to Thurston Howell the third. He found it to be an unpleasant and annoying emotion that hindered his exploits. It seemed to be occurring with increasing regularity since he had been stranded on this tacky island. He was realizing that the more he cared for his fellow castaways the more he felt guilty when he did something that hurt them. As he thought about how his words had affected Gilligan that emotion cut him deep.

He never really had understood Gilligan at all. The boy had very little interest in money, which made him nearly impossible to bribe, especially when it went contrary to his principals. Greed was completely unknown to him. Then there was that strange habit of telling the truth all the time. He did not think it was even possible for Gilligan to tell a lie. A quality which Mr. Howell did not hesitate to exploit. Another peculiar quality he had noticed about the first mate was his urge to help others. Many were the time he would act as butler to the rich couple without charge. That in itself was not strange, for he knew most people would do things for him simply because he was a millionaire and hoped for compensation. But Gilligan, he realized was different. He helped simply because he wanted to make his friends happy, and this seemed to be reward enough. So with the help of all his fellow castaways, but especially Gilligan, Thurston Howell the Third was slowly beginning to realize that money was not the most important thing in life.

Mrs. Eunice Wentworth Howell also thought about the awkward but endearing boy she had grown so fond of over their island exile. He had saved her life once as well. A gallant lad if she ever saw one. To show their gratitude the wealthy couple adopted Gilligan and had attempted to show him the better things in life. He had tried so hard to please them even though he really did not enjoy the well-to-do lifestyle, with all its social rules and attitudes. He was much happier just being himself. And truth be told, Mrs. Howell preferred him that way, although she still felt a bit of maternal instinct toward the boy. Even though he was no longer G. Thurston Howell the IV, if he died she would still feel like she had lost a son.

Mary Ann sat on the bench next to the table, holding Gilligan's limp hand in hers, just watching him breathe. _Come on, Gilligan. Keep breathing. You can get through this. I know you can._ She didn't know what she would do if he never woke up. Gilligan was…well…special. He was like a brother to her, but somehow more. She couldn't really explain it. All she knew was that if he was gone, life on the island would be much harder to deal with.

Ginger stared at Gilligan's still form for a long time thinking over all the things she had said about him. They were all true. It was his fault they were still stranded, and as long as they stayed that way her acting career was finished. Not to mention he was an annoying little twerp. But that didn't mean she had wanted him to hear all those things. And it certainly didn't mean she wanted him to die.

"I've got an idea!" She nearly shouted as she rose to her feet. "I was in a movie once where a man was in a coma. But it wasn't just because he was injured. Deep down in his subconscious he thought that no one wanted him, so instead of awaking to a cruel world his body kept him unconscious. But when his friends and family told him how much he meant to them he finally woke up."

"Do you think it would work?" Mary Ann asked.

"Anything's worth a try." The Skipper said.

Ginger nodded and bent down, getting into character. As she slid a hand over Gilligan's shoulder, he tensed visibly. "Gilligan," She nuzzled his cheek, looking as distressed as she knew how and recited her lines. "Please come back. You know Ginger didn't mean all those nasty things. Now be a good Sleeping Beauty and wake up for Ginger." As she kissed him he shifted uncomfortably and gave a small groan.

"Ginger, stop it!" Mary Ann scolded. "You know that scares him."

The moviestar stood up, frustrated and hurt that her plan hadn't worked. "It's not my fault he's afraid of women!"

"Besides," Mr. Howell said, stepping up to the table. "Money talks." He leaned down and put a hand on Gilligan's shoulder. "Gilligan, my boy, I'll give you a hundred thousand dollars if you stop this charade and recover immediately." The millionaire waited for a reaction. None came. "Alright, a million." No response. "Ten million!" Nothing. "My teddy bear?"

When this offer produced no effect either Mrs. Howell moved over and touched her husband's shoulder. "Maybe you should apologize to him."

He stared at her for a moment, surprised at the suggestion. The thought hadn't crossed his mind. Generally, he would have been offended by the proposal. However, he realized his better half was being just that. "You are so right, my dear." With that he forced his pride aside and turned back to the first mate. "Gilligan, my wife and I want to apologize for the beastly things we said about you the other night. They were inconsiderate and callus." Once again he paused to see if Gilligan would respond. When he didn't Mr. Howell began to get flustered. "Don't you understand? Dear boy, I'm saying 'I'm _sorry'!_" Gilligan still gave no indication that he heard the millionaire's words. He turned to his wife, on the brink of tears. "Lovey, he's not listening to me!!"

"There, there, Thurston." She petted her husband's cheek in an effort to calm him. "You tried."

"Gilligan." Mary Ann spoke softly, squeezing his hand a little tighter. "If you can hear me, please listen. I don't know everything you heard the other night but we didn't mean any of it. Sometimes people say things when they're upset that they're sorry for later. We care about you. All of us. Sure you make mistakes, but so does everyone. No matter what you heard, you are important. Why, you've done so many things for us that I can't even count them. Not only do you do much of the work around here, we also owe our lives to you."

"That's right, Gilligan." The Skipper spoke up. "If it hadn't been for what you did last night I wouldn't be here."

Mr. Howell nodded. "And then there was the time he pushed my dear wife out from under that beastly rock."

"It was so brave of you, dear." Mrs. Howell added.

"Three times you've rescued us single-handedly from the hands of bloodthirsty savages."

Gilligan lay just as still as before, giving no indication that he had heard them or was even aware of their presence.

"I don't think he can hear you." They all turned to see the Professor standing behind them, shaking his head. He held up a coconut bowl filled with a gooey, brown substance. "I finished the antibiotic."

Ginger grimaced. "That looks awful."

Mary Ann put a hand over her nose. "It smells awful too."

The Skipper stared at the concoction. "How are we going to get him to eat that stuff?"

"We aren't. I'm going to apply it directly to the wound." Everyone backed up slightly to give the Professor room as he began to unwrap the bandage around Gilligan's leg. "Watch him closely, Skipper." The Professor said as he spread the mixture onto a piece of cloth. "I'm not sure how he will react to this."

"What do you mean?"

"It is going to sting badly. If his pain receptors are still active like they were earlier he might respond automatically."

"I understand." The captain nodded and took Gilligan's hand again.

With that assurance the Professor placed the piece of cloth directly over the cut. Just as before, the reaction was immediate. He gave a small gasp, his whole body stiffened and his face contorted into a pained grimace. The Skipper could feel Gilligan's grip tighten around his hand. He tried to pull his leg away from the Professor's grasp but the attempt was so weak he was easily restrained.

"Girls, help me rebandage him."

"It's alright, Little Buddy." The Skipper soothed. "Calm down. This is for your own good."

"Skipper?" The captain was shocked find Gilligan looking up at him. "I…I don't feel so good."

"I know." He patted Gilligan gently on the shoulder, his emotions going wild inside his chest. Part of him was ecstatic to see his Little Buddy conscious again, but the terrified look in Gilligan's eyes as he struggled to stay conscious cut him deeper than anything he had seen in the battlefields of Korea.

"What's wrong with me?"

The Skipper had to swallow the lump in his throat before he could speak again and when he was able all he could say was. "You're hurt, Little Buddy." He could feel his eyes beginning to well up.

In all the time they had known one another Gilligan had never seen the Skipper cry. Not once. His captain was the bravest man he'd ever known. The fear and grief he could see on his friend's face and the tears beginning in his eyes scared Gilligan more than anything. "Am I…" He paused to swallow. "Am I going to die?" He asked weakly.

Mary Ann put a hand to her mouth to stifle a sudden sob and. Ginger patted her hand, trying to comfort her distressed friend.

The Skipper nearly choked at the question, and for a moment was shocked into silence. Then he frowned. "Of course not, Gilligan! Don't say things like that. You'll be fine. You just got a little banged up, that's all."

"I've been banged up before. But it never felt like this." Gilligan's eyes crossed slightly, as if he was having trouble keeping them focused.

The Skipper opened his mouth to reply but couldn't think of anything to say.

"Try to keep him awake." The Professor urged, helping the girls finish up the bandage job.

He nodded. "Gilligan, I want you to stay awake for me."

"What time is it?" The first mate asked.

The captain frowned at the odd question and glanced at the Professor who shrugged. Turning back to Gilligan he asked; "Why?"

"Because it's got to be really late. I'm so tired." His grip on the Skipper's hand was beginning to weaken.

"Gilligan, listen to me. I want you to stay awake. That's an order from your captain."

The first mate blinked hard a couple of times, obviously struggling to keep his eyes open. "I don't know, Skipper. I'll try. But I never had any fun at slumber parties."

"Slumber parties?"

"I was always the first one…" His eyes flickered once, twice "…to…fall…aslee..." and closed.

"Gilligan?" The Skipper patted Gilligan's, now limp, hand. "Gilligan!" But it was no use. Gilligan couldn't hear him.


	15. As Night Falls

**15. As Night Falls**

The Professor stared uneasily at the sky. There were still dark clouds blocking the sun. "Skipper."

The captain looked up from where he sat next to Gilligan. It had been nearly half an hour since the first mate had temporarily regained consciousness and the Skipper was still hoping he would wake up again.

"We should start working on the huts. I don't like the looks of those clouds. If it rains again tonight we surely don't want him out in it."

The Skipper glanced upward and frowned. He was getting a sneaking suspicion that the weather was consciously against them. He rose to his feet and nodded. "You're right."

"But what about Gilligan?" Mary Ann asked.

"We'll leave him where he is for now." The Professor said. "You girls can take turns keeping an eye on him."

Mary Ann and Ginger nodded.

"Mr. and Mrs. Howell," The Skipper said, finally beginning to take charge again. "You two can gather palm fronds. It should be pretty easy. After that storm they're all on the ground anyway. You can start by gathering all the ones on the ground here in the compound and putting them in a pile. The Professor and I will start tacking them on."

Mr. Howell opened his mouth to protest on the basis that he and his wife had done more than their share of manual labor in the last couple of days, but he took one look at Gilligan and decided against it. If it would aid the boy's recovery Thurston Howell was willing to stoop to back breaking work.

And it was hard work…for everyone. They were constantly busy the rest of the day. The Skipper stopped every twenty minuets or so to check on Gilligan, but even so the work helped him kept his mind from dwelling on his anxiety.

By nightfall all the huts were finished and everyone was exhausted.

"Well," The Skipper said, gazing into the starry and now cloudless sky. "I guess it won't rain tonight. But at least we got that over with."

A tired groan passed through the group.

"I'm so sleepy I could crash right here." Ginger said leaning against a palm tree.

"Here that, Little Buddy? It's time to hit the sack." The Skipper made a move to pick up Gilligan, but the Professor put up a warning hand.

"I've been thinking, Skipper. And I don't think we should put him in a hammock."

The captain frowned. "Why not? He sleeps in one all the time."

"Yes, and how often does he fall out?"

The Skipper nodded. "You've got a point there."

"If he was to tip that hammock over in the condition he's in…"

"I get the idea Professor." He put up a hand, not wanting to hear any more. "But who's bed can he stay in?"

Mr. Howell stepped forward immediately, his wife at his side. "I insist that you use our abode. After all ours are the only first-class accommodations on this shabby little island."

"There's two beds." Mrs. Howell added. "So the Skipper can stay too."

The Skipper smiled. "That's very generous of you Mr. Howell."

The millionaire frowned. "You don't have to rub it in."

"But Thurston, where will we sleep?"

"You can sleep in our hammocks." The Skipper offered.

The rich couple nodded and headed off toward their temporary quarters.

The girls bid them goodnight and went off to bed as well.

"Alright, Gilligan, let's go." The Skipper said as he carefully lifted his friend from the table and started toward the Howell's hut. It still made him a little sick carrying his limp form in his arms. "Did you hear that, Little Buddy? It's not often that the Howells let someone stay in their hut. You should feel privileged."

The Professor followed him inside and watched as the weathered sea captain gently laid his first mate on the bed and pulled up the covers. "I'd like to check him one more time before I go to bed."

The Skipper nodded, and pulled Mrs. Howell's rocking chair next to the bed. He sat and watched as the Professor checked his pulse, breathing and temperature. "Well?" He urged when the Professor had finished and began putting his medical tools away.

"His fever is beginning to go down. But it's still dangerously high. I hope that antibiotic is strong enough."

The captain nodded absently. "Skipper." He felt the Professor' hand on his shoulder and looked up. "Try to get some sleep."

"But I…"

"I'll be in to check on him every three hours."

"How will you wake up on time?"

"I've created an alarm clock by connecting my watch to the radio. Now get some rest."

The Skipper sighed and shook his head. "I'll try."

The Professor nodded and gave the captain a pat on the back. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." As he watched the Professor go he seriously doubted he was going to get much sleep.

A few minutes later a shadow crept through the front door. The Skipper smiled a bit. "Hi there, Mr. Howell."

The millionaire jumped at the captain's voice. "Oh, uh…I thought you would be asleep."

"No." was his only reply as he lit a lantern on the nightstand.

"How did you know it was me?"

"You are the only one on this island with slippers that flop like that." There was a tense silence. "What did you come back for?"

"Well I…uh…" Without further explanation he pulled his teddy bear from behind his back, lifted Gilligan's covers and slipped it under his hand.

The captain smiled but didn't say anything as the millionaire left. _Mr. Howell is turning out to be a pretty good guy._

He looked down at Gilligan in the flickering lantern light. He was still very pale. The Professor said his fever was beginning to lift. That was a good sign. But the Skipper was still terrified that if he fell asleep tonight he would wake up to find his Little Buddy gone. He had gotten so used to having Gilligan around that the thought of him not being there was nearly incomprehensible.

"Gilligan." He said softly. "I don't know if you can hear me, but I've got to tell you something. I've never had a friend like you. I mean, someone who would stick by me through thick and thin. You're always there for me, and I'm going to do the same for you." The Skipper kept talking. He talked about their friendship over the years, all the things they had been through together. He spoke for nearly three hours until finally exhaustion took over and he slipped into a fitful sleep.


	16. Recovery

**16. Recovery**

Gilligan woke up slowly. Noticing first he had a headache, he reached a hand up to his forehead and frowned. _Why do I have a bandage on me head? And where's my hat?_ He thought, opening his eyes. They widened immediately._ I'm in the Howells hut!_ And upon looking down. _In Mr. Howell's bed…with his teddy bear?_ He dropped the stuffed animal as if it had burned him, and threw off the covers, realizing he could get in big trouble being where he was. Mr. Howell did not take trespassing lightly. _How did I get in here anyway?_

His eyes grew even wider as he noticed the Skipper snoring softly next to the bed in Mrs. Howell's rocking chair. "Hey, Skipper." He whispered, afraid the rich couple might hear. "We should get out of here. Mr. Howell's not going to be happy if he comes home right now." The captain continued snoring. Gilligan shrugged. "Okay, if they find you here and Mr. Howell yells at you don't say I didn't warn you." With that he stood up.

Gasping at the sudden pain he immediately sat back down. He pulled up his pant leg only to find a bandage there too. "How'd I get so beat up?" He asked himself, getting more confused by the second. There was a soft rumble and he put a hand to his stomach. "Or so hungry. Boy, I'm starved!" He stood up again, expecting the pain this time. It wasn't quite as bad as he thought at first but it still hurt to put much weight on it. Thus, with a fairly severe limp he made his way outside to find some breakfast.

-

The Skipper snapped awake, wondering immediately how he could have let himself fall asleep. Looking down at the bed his blood ran cold. Gilligan was gone! Many horrible possibilities ran through his mind, but one stood out above all the others. The Professor must have moved him during the night, and there was really only one reason they would have moved Gilligan without telling him. But he had to make sure.

"Professor!" The Skipper shouted as he burst out of the hut, waking up all of the five other castaways, who were all instantly outside to see what all the commotion was about.

At the sound of the Skipper's frantic voice the Professor snapped awake, instantly realizing that his alarm had not worked. Which meant that he had not checked on Gilligan last night. A sinking feeling grew in his chest as he bolted out of bed. The Professor stepped out of his hut to find the Skipper just outside the door. The captain grabbed him franticly by the shoulders. "He's gone! Why is Gilligan's _gone!_"

Those simple misunderstood words rang over and over in the Professor's ears. He had failed. Taking a deep wavering breath he asked; "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." The Skipper nodded emphatically. "He's just gone. Why, Professor?"

MaryAnn fell to her knees and burst into tears. Ginger kneeled beside her, holding her friend close while crying herself. Mr. Howell buried his tears in one of his silk monogrammed handkerchief while his wife sobbed on his shoulder.

"The antibiotic must not have worked in time." The Professor shook his head, tears beginning to fill his eyes as well. "I'm so sorry."

Taking this as confirmation of his worst fear the Skipper said. "It's not your fault, Professor. You did the best you could." He sat down heavily on the bench next to the table.

"Yes. But it wasn't good enough."

The Skipper buried his face in his hands. Tears streamed down his face and he made no attempt to hide them. And why should he? He had just lost his best friend. Sure Gilligan was always goofing things up. But his idiosyncrasies made things interesting. He had a feeling life on this small island would get pretty dull without the first mate. The thought of rescue was also dimmed. He had always hoped that after returning to civilization he and his first mate would return to the Navy. That hope was gone as well. Realization began to sink in. He would never again see Gilligan's proud smile when he won at checkers. There would be no more tangled fishing lines. There would be no more good-natured verbal jousting. There would be no one in that upper hammock to talk to at night. No more Gilligan. It made him feel sick.

"You know Professor, Gilligan was more than my Little Buddy. He was like a son to me."

The Professor looked into the Skipper's teary eyes and nodded. "I know."

The captain shook his head. "I can't believe it. He's gone because he saved me."

" 'There is no greater love than this, that someone should surrender his soul in behalf of his friends.' "

The Skipper nodded solemnly. After a long silence he quietly asked: "Where is he?"

The Professor sighed deeply. "That is a question that has been asked by one and all throughout the ages. Each individual seems to have a different answer."

The Skipper frowned slightly. "No I meant where did you...?"

At that moment Gilligan limped into the clearing, a banana in hand. He stopped in his tracks and frowned, shocked at what he saw. "Why is everybody crying?"

As the captain turned around his jaw dropped in complete disbelief. "Gilliganlittlebuddy!!" He cried as he leapt up and lifted Gilligan off his feet in an embrace that nearly strangled him. "You're alive!"

"I won't be if you don't lemme go." Gilligan choked. When the Skipper finally set him down he barely had time to catch his breath when he was set upon by the rest of the castaways. He got a hug from everyone in addition to a kiss from both girls, a pat on the back from Mr. Howell, a pat on the cheek from Mrs. Howell and a brisk handshake from the Professor. With all the commotion his head was beginning to hurt again and he held his hands over his ears in an attempt to drown out all the loud voices. This gesture brought everyone to silence. He looked at them in surprise, wondering why everyone had reacted so suddenly and at all.

"Are you okay, Gilligan?" The Professor asked.

"I'm okay. But everyone was talking so loud it was giving me a headache. Why is everyone being so nice to me?"

"We're just so happy to see you Little Buddy."

"How come? You've never been this happy to see me before."

When nobody seemed to have any answer for that he asked. "Have I been sleepwalking again? Because I've got these bandages," He pointed to his head and leg. "I'm sore all over and lost my hat and I can't remember how I got them, why I am or where it is."

The Skipper smiled. It was good to hear that his Little Buddy was just as confusing as ever. "Well, during the storm the other night you…"

Gilligan cocked his head. "What storm?"

The castaways swapped an uneasy glance.

"You don't remember the storm?" the Skipper asked worriedly.

"No."

"What's the last thing you do remember?" The Professor asked.

Gilligan thought about it for a moment. "Skipper ate that pie Mary Ann helped me make and we went to bed. And you really liked it too."

The captain swapped a few knowing glances with his fellow castaways then put a hand on Gilligan's shoulder. "Gilligan, Little Buddy, I want you to promise me something."

Gilligan shrugged. "What?"

"From now on let Mary Ann do the cooking, huh."

He frowned for a second, then donning a rather confused grin he said; "Whatever you say, Skipper."

They all laughed for a moment as Gilligan's puzzlement grew.

"Would you sit on the table for a minute, Gilligan?" The Professor asked. "I want to check a few things."

"Sure." He watched as he went into his hut and came out carrying his medical bag. Gilligan eyed him suspiciously. "Check what?"

The Professor smiled at his reaction. "Don't worry, this will only take a minute."

"I still don't understand how I got like this." Gilligan said as the Professor checked his pulse and respiration. "And I—mmff!" He stared cross-eyed at the thermometer that had been abruptly shoved in his mouth.

"You took a pretty bad fall the other night." The Skipper explained.

"A nid?"

"Yes you did. And you've been unconscious most of the time."

"Un nuff hu a god diff?" He pointed to his leg.

"Yeah, and that bump on your head."

"Wa wuff a don ver?"

"Will you stop talking with that in your mouth."

Gilligan pulled it out and began to ask; "What was…"

"Oh, Gilligan! Now it's got to start over." The Professor grabbed the thermometer, shook it and stuck it back in Gilligan's mouth.

He gave a small, frustrated grunt, but was otherwise silent as the Professor carefully unwrapped the bandage. His eyes widened as the last strip of cloth was removed and he got a good look at his injury. He let out one small whimper before he fell backward and passed out.

The Skipper reached over and caught him before he hit the table. "Is he okay?" He asked nervously, hoping his Little Buddy had not had a relapse.

The Professor reached over and pulled the thermometer from Gilligan's mouth. "He's going to be fine. His temperature is still slightly high, and there's a bit of residual infection. But considering all he's made a miraculous recovery. That antibiotic was amazingly effective. As a matter of fact we ought to use the rest of it to…"

There was a groan as Gilligan awoke and sat up. A sudden look of horror came across his face. "You're going to have to amputate, aren't you?" He began to get frantic. "I'm going to have to wear a wooden leg. What if I catch termites? Am I going to turn into a pirate, and have to say stuff like; 'aarrg' and 'ahoy matey'?"

"Gilligan, calm down!"

"How can I calm down? I can't be a pirate! I'm scared of parrots and I don't even have my ears pierced. I look funny in a beard and--mmgph!"

The Skipper clamped a hand over Gilligan's mouth. "Will you stop!"

The Professor put a hand on the first mate's shoulder and looked him directly in the eyes. "Listen. I'm not going to amputate. You are going to be fine. Do you understand?"

Gilligan nodded slowly and the Skipper removed his hand.

The Professor reached into his bag and pulled out the rest of the salve and began spreading it on a piece of cloth.

"What's that stuff? It smells terrible." Gilligan asked.

"This is an antibiotic. I'm going to put it on your leg and try to clear up the rest of that infection."

"Will it hurt?"

"Yes."

"Then I'm outta here." Gilligan made a move to escape.

"Oh, no you don't!" The Skipper grabbed his arm, jerked him back down and held him firmly in place. "This is for your own good. Now sit still."

"Yes," The Professor implored. "Please, hold still." With that he placed the patch directly over the injury.

Gilligan let out a pained yelp, then took a deep breath and held it. As he squeezed his eyes shut one lone tear slid down his cheek. After a moment the pain began to subside. He relaxed, let his breath go, looked up at the Skipper and said weakly; "Ow."

"You alright?"

He shook his head emphatically. "It's going to fall off. I just know it."

"Your leg is _not_ going to fall off." The Professor said firmly. "You just need to be easy on it for a few days."

"I'll build you a crutch so you can still get around." The Skipper offered.

"Sure, Skipper." Gilligan yawned, his eyelids were beginning to get heavy. "Boy, I'm tired."

"That's understandable." The Professor said. "You've been through quite an ordeal the last few days. Perhaps you should go lay down."

He nodded. It sounded like a good idea. He was about to hop down from the table when the Skipper said; "Here, let me help." And picked him up. He didn't protest. At the moment the walk to their hut had seemed like a pretty daunting task by himself.

"Have a good nap, Little Buddy." The Skipper said as he set him in the lower hammock.

"G'night."

The Skipper smiled as he left the hut. Everything would soon be back to normal. As he neared the group the Professor came up to meet him and asked quietly. "What made you say he was dead?"

"I didn't say that. I said he was _gone_. You said he was…" His voice trailed off as they both realized the how they had contributed to the misunderstanding.

"Oooohhh." They said in unison.

There was a tap on the Skipper's shoulder. He turned around to find Mr. Howell.

"Captain, you and your crew owe me $1,000."

The Skipper frowned. "For what?"

"A night's room and board. You don't think I'd let you stay in our hut for free do you?"

"You never told me we'd have to pay." He was beginning to get angry. "I thought you were being nice."

"Perish the thought! Besides, ignorance is no excuse."

When the Skipper opened his mouth to protest the millionaire continued.

"You're getting off easy. We really should sue you two for attempted murder."

"What!?" He shouted, outraged. "Murder?"

"That's what I said; murder, murder, murder!" Mr. Howell pounded his fist on the table.

"What are you talking about Howell?"

"Those monstrosities you call hammocks nearly killed us last night! I'd show you the bruise but we're in mixed company."

"You know we don't have a thousand dollars."

"You two can work off your debt."

"Gilligan can't work!" The captain shouted, thrusting a finger towards the hut. "He can barely walk."

"Well, we'll give him a rain check. But you can start right away."

The Skipper held up a fist. "Why, I ougtta…"

"Hey!" Mary Ann nearly shouted, startling them both. "I've got a great idea." She beaconed the others over.

The Skipper and Mr. Howell shot each other a piercing glare before joining the group to listen to Mary Ann's plan.

------

"Where are we going?"

"Just keep your eyes closed, Gilligan." Mary Ann said as she led him across the clearing. She had insisted he lean on her for support but she now struggled under his weight. He was a lot heavier than he looked.

He could hear the strain in her voice and tried to let up a little. "Are we there yet?"

"Not yet. Now, don't peek."

"Okay, but I feel like I'm going to run into something."

She stopped him and said; "Sit down."

"Is there a chair there?"

"Of course there is!" She said indignantly. "What kind of person do you think I am? I wouldn't play a mean trick like that." She pushed him down onto a seat. "Okay, you can open your eyes now."

There was a loud chorus of; "Surprise!"

Gilligan found himself sitting at the head of the communal table, surrounded by his fellow castaways. Directly in front of him was a large cake. "Oh, boy!" He clapped his hands. "A party. I love parties. What's it for?"

"You, silly." Ginger said.

"Me? Why are you having a party for me? I didn't do anything special."

"Yes you have." The Skipper said, pulling Gilligan's hat from his pocket and placing it on his head. "And you are special, Little Buddy. The best first mate a captain ever had."

"Hear, hear." Said Mr. Howell, raising his glass.

"Yes," Mrs. Howell added. "We're glad you're shipwrecked with us."

Gilligan shook his head. "But I'm always messing things up."

"Oh, Gilligan." Mary Ann said. "Everybody makes mistakes."

"Yeah, but not everybody makes as many as me."

"You're just a bit inept." Said the Professor. "That's not a sin."

"Well, I wish I was out of ept." He mumble to himself, then said aloud; "You mean you really don't mind if I goof?"

"No."

"Not really."

"It's okay."

"Of course not."

"Good." Gilligan smiled and turned to the Skipper. "Because you know that fishing net you and the Professor were working on a few days ago?"

"Yeah." The Skipper said suspiciously.

"You know how you had it stretched between those two trees."

"Yes."

"I found it this morning when I went out to find some breakfast. You really should use stronger string, Skipper."

"You mean you…?"

Gilligan nodded.

"It took us two days worth of work to make that net!"

"Look at it this way;" Gilligan said with a sheepish smile. "With a little more work you could have two nets."

The Skipper raised his hand and Gilligan flinched. He knew the captain was reaching for his hat. He also knew that the blow he had coming was going to bring back his headache back with renewed force. But instead of a jolt from the hat he felt the Skipper's arm around him and heard his big hearty laugh.

Gilligan opened his eyes, slightly confused, and smiled back.

"You're one in a million, Little Buddy!"

"You mean you're not mad?" Gilligan sounded astonished.

"I'm not mad."

"Really?"

"Really."

A big grin spread across his face. "Can we cut the cake?"


	17. Epilogue

_**17. Epilogue**_

Gilligan lay awake staring at the far wall, his hammock rocking him gently. It had been several days since the party and he was feeling much better now. The cut on his leg was healing well and his head no longer throbbed at every loud noise. Rays of moonlight streamed through the window, illuminating everything in a silvery glow. He was debating on weather or not to wake the Skipper. The captain hadn't been as testy with him as usual. In fact he had been downright smothering, scarcely letting the first mate out of his sight for a moment.

"Skipper?" He asked quietly, finally making up his mind. "Are you awake?"

The Skipper mumbled something in his sleep, was quiet for a moment then snapped awake, instantly concerned. "What? What's wrong, Little Buddy?"

Gilligan's voice was almost a whisper. "I remember."

"Huh? Remember what?" The captain asked, sleep still half clouding his mind.

"Everything."

The lower hammock was silent for a long time and for a moment Gilligan thought he had gone back to sleep.

"Skipper?"

"I heard you."

"I'm sorry."

"If you remember everything than you remember I told you not to bring that up."

"Not that. I mean I'm sorry for…everything else."

"You oughtta be! You scared us all to death."

"I know." Gilligan would never forget waking up to see tears where he never could have imagined them. He had never seen the Skipper look more terrified.

The strange tone in the young man's voice moved him to soften his own. "Forget about it. Everything's fine now." He hoped that would satisfy his first mate and he wouldn't continue the uncomfortable conversation. He was wrong.

Gilligan turned over on his side and peeked over the edge of his hammock. He shook his head in amazement. "I can't believe you went out in that storm. You always told me that nothing was worth facing a typhoon. 'Lay anchor and stay put' you said."

The Skipper shrugged a bit self-consciously. "A captain's got to keep track of his crew."

"You always say that when wind and water join forces against you it's best to find a sheltered port. But you went right out in them at night…" Gilligan's voice quieted. "…just to look for me."

"Would you shut up and go to sleep?"

"I could never be that brave."

The comment struck a chord and for a long time the only sound of rustling palm trees touched the silence.

"You were." The Skipper finally said, all the irritation from a moment ago gone. "Little Buddy, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you."

Gilligan's forehead puckered as he thought long and hard about that. A small smile touched one corner of his mouth. "That was kinda brave wasn't it?"

"It was." The Skipper managed to say through a yawn.

Gilligan was quiet for about five minutes before speaking up again. "Skipper?"

"Hmm?"

"A typhoon has an eye, right? So does that mean that it can blink?

"I thought I told you to shut up and go to sleep!"


End file.
